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BRAND  WBITLOCK 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 
LIBRARY 


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ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 


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ABRAHAM   LINCOLN 


BY 
BRAND  WHITLOCK 


ILLUSTRATED 


BOSTON 

SMALL,  MAYNARD  &  COMPANY 
MCMXVI 


Copyright,  1909,  1916 
By  small,  MAYNARD  &  COMPANY 
(incorporated) 


S.  J.  Pabkhill  &  Co.,  Boston,  U.S.A. 


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PREFACE 

To  compress  between  the  covers  of  a  little 
hook  like  this  the  whole  story  of  Abraham 
Lincoln,  to  present  within  such  limitations  a 
life  so  epical,  a  character  so  original  and  yet  so 
universal,  is  obviously  impossible.  It  would  be 
impossible,  indeed,  in  a  work  of  a  score  of 
volumes.  The  fascinating  subject  has  already 
yielded  a  whole  literature.  In  the  List  of  Lin- 
colniana  in  the  Library  of  Congress,  compiled 
by  Mr,  George  Thomas  Ritchie,  there  are  al- 
ready a  thousand  titles.  Almost  any  phase  of 
Lincoln  s  remarkable  personality  is  worth  a 
volume  by  itself.  Mr.  Hill,  for  instance,  has 
written  a  charming  book  on  ''Lincoln  the  Law- 
yer,'' devoted  in  the  main  to  what,  in  many  re- 
spects, is  the  most  interesting  period  of  his  life; 
namely,  those  years  when  he  was  on  the  old 
Eighth  Circuit.    Mr.  Bates's  reminiscences  of 

9 


PREFACE 

"Lincoln  in  the  Telegraph  Office"  are  most 
delightful.  The  student  will  wish  to  read 
Herndon's  racy  pages, — though  he  would  bet- 
ter take  some  of  them  with  a  grain  of  salt, — for 
these  supply  the  biographers  with  all  that  is 
known  of  the  early  life  of  the  subject.  He  will 
wish,  too,  to  read  Lamon,  who  used  Herndons 
materials;  he  will  wish  to  peruse  the  pious  pages 
of  Holland;  and  he  will  find  valuable  the  data 
which  but  for  Miss  Tarbell  might  otherwise 
have  been  lost.  He  will  find  Nicolay  and 
Hay's  monumental  work  authoritative,  if  not 
definitive;  and  he  will  not  like  to  miss  the  fine 
flavor  of  that  latest  volume,  so  sympathetic,  so 
full  of  insight,  that  has  come  to  us  from  over 
the  sea  in  Mr,  Binns's  most  eoccellent  Life,  He 
will  wish  to  read,  also,  the  intimate  personal 
sketches  Walt  Whitman  has  scattered  all 
through  his  prose;  and  above  all,  of  course,  he 
will  wish  to  read  Lincoln's  speeches,  letters, 
messages,  and  State  papers,  where,  better  than 
any  other  words  can  give  it,  is  to  be  found  the 
expression  of  his  noble  personality, 

10 


PREFACE 

To  all  these  works,  to  all  those  cited  in  the 
Bibliography,  the  present  writer  owes,  and 
wishes  to  express,  his  gratitude  and  acknowl- 
edgments. All  he  knows,  aside  from  some 
personal  recollections  of  Springfield  friends,  he 
got  from  them.  He  makes  no  claim  of  original 
research  or  new  material:  he  has  contributed 
nothing  of  his  own  save  the  labour  of  condensa- 
tion and  a  love  of  the  subject  which  finds  it  hard 
to  resist  the  temptation  to  write  at  as  great  a 
length  as  any  of  them.  He  would,  however, 
urge  the  reader  to  get  the  other  books  about  the 
greatest  American,  and  to  seek  out  for  himself 
the  secret  that  was  in  his  wonderful  and  beauti- 
ful life, — the  secret  that,  let  us  hope,  was  re- 
vealed to  America  for  the  saving  of  the  world. 

Brand  Whitlock. 

Toledo,  October  20,  1908 


11 


CHRONOLOGY 

1809 

February  12.  Abraham  Lincoln  was  born  on  the 
Big  South  Fork  of  Nolin  Creek,  in  Hardin,  now 
LaRue  County,  Kentucky. 

1816 
Removed  with  his  parents   to  Indiana,   settling  on 
Little   Pigeon    Creek,   near   Gentryville,    Spencer 
County. 

1818 
Nancy  Hanks  Lincoln,  his  mother,  died. 

1819 
His  father  married  Sarah  Bush  Johnston. 

1828 
Went  to  New  Orleans  on  a  flatboat. 

1830 

The  Lincolns  went  to  Illinois,  settling  near  Decatur, 

Macon  County. 
Abraham  split  the  historic  rails. 

15 


CHROXOLOGY 

1831 

Went  to  New  Orleans  on  a  flatboat. 
July.     Went    to    New    Salem,    Sangamon    County. 
Clerk  in  store. 

1832 

March,     Announced  himself   candidate   for  legisla- 
ture. 
Captain  in  Black  Hawk  War. 
July.     Mustered  out. 
August,     Defeated  for  election. 

1833 

Engaged  in  business  with  Berry.     Began  to  study 

law. 
The  firm  of  Lincoln  &  Berry  failed. 
May.     Postmaster  of  New  Salem.     Deputy  surveyor 

of  Sangamon  County. 

1834 
Again  candidate  for  legislature,  and  elected. 

1835 

Was   at  Vandalia   as   member  of  legislature.     Met 

Stephen  A.  Douglas. 
Fell  in  love  with  Anne  Rutledge,  who  died.     Was 

plunged  into  melancholia. 


16 


J> 


CHRONOLOGY 

1836 

Love  affair  with  Mary  Owens. 

Re-elected  to  legislature.  Leader  of  **Long  Nine. 
Worked  for  Internal  Improvement  bubble,  and 
succeeded  in  having  State  capital  removed  to 
Springfield. 

Protested  against  resolutions  condemning  abolition- 
ism. 

Admitted  to  the  bar. 

1837 
Settled    in    Springfield,    forming    partnership    with 
John  T.  Stuart. 

1838 
Re-elected   to  legislature.     Minority   candidate   for 
Speaker. 

1840 

Candidate  for  Presidential  elector  on  Whig  ticket. 
Stumped  the  State  for  Harrison.  Had  encoun- 
ters with  Douglas. 

Re-elected  to  legislature,  and  again  minority  candi- 
date for  Speaker. 

1841 

He  and  Douglas  rivals  for  hand  of  Mary  Todd. 
Engagement  with  Mary  Todd  broken.  Ill  and  al- 
most deranged.  Visited  his  friend  Joshua  Speed 
in  Kentucky. 

Challenged  to  a  duel  by  James  T.  Shields. 

17 


CHRONOLOGY 

April  14.     Formed  law  partnership  with  Judge  Ste- 
phen T.  Logan. 
Refused  Whig  nomination  for  governor. 

1842 
November  4.     Married  to  Mary  Todd. 

1843 

September  20.  Formed  law  partnership  with  Wil- 
liam H.  Herndon, 

1844 

Candidate  for  Presidential  elector  on  Whig  ticket, 
and  stumped  Illinois  and  Indiana  for  Henrj  Clay. 

1846 

Elected  to  the  Thirtieth  Congress  over  Peter  Cart- 
wright. 

1847 
In   Congress.     Introduced   famous   *'Spot"  Resolu- 
tions. 

1848 

Presidential  elector  on  Whig  ticket,  and  stumped 
New  England  for  Taylor. 

December,  Attended  second  session  of  the  Thirtieth 
Congress.  Voted  for  Wilmot  Proviso  and  Ash- 
mun's  amendment. 

Introduced  bill  abolishing  slavery  in  District  of  Co- 
lumbia. 

18 


CHRONOLOGY 

Sought  appointment  as  commissioner  of  General 
Lands  Office,  and  failed. 

Declined  appointment  as  Territorial  Governor  of 
Oregon. 

Went  back  to  Springfield,  disappointed  and  disillu- 
sioned. 

1849 
Practised  law  on  old  Eighth  Judicial  Circuit  of  Illi- 
nois. 

185^ 
Campaigned  for  Scott. 

1854 
Roused  by  repeal  of  Missouri  Compromise  and  pas- 
sage of  Kansas-Nebraska  bill. 
Attacked  Douglas's  position. 
November,     Elected  to  legislature  against  his  will. 

1855 
January.     Resigned  from  legislature  to  become  can- 
didate for  United  States  senator. 
February,     Defeated  for  United  States  senator. 

1856 
May  29.     Spoke  at  Bloomington  Convention,  which 

organised  the  Republican  party  in  Illinois. 
Received  110  votes  for  Vice-President  in  Republican 
Convention  at  Philadelphia. 

19 


CHRONOLOGY 

Candidate   for   Presidential   elector   on   Republican 

ticket,  and  campaigned  for  Fremont. 
Attacked  Douglas's  position. 

1858 

June  16.     Nominated  for  United  States  Senate  by 

Republicans  in  State  Convention. 
July  24.     Challenged  Douglas  to  joint  debate. 
Great  debate  with  Douglas. 
Carried  Illinois  for  Republicans  on  popular  vote,  but 

lost  a  majority  of  the  legislative  districts. 

1859 
January,     Defeated  for  Senate  by  Douglas  before 

legislature. 
Spoke  that  fall  in  Ohio,  and  in  December  in  Kansas. 

1860 

February  27.     Delivered  notable  address  at  Cooper 

Institute,  New  York. 
Spoke  also  in  New  England. 
May  9.     Named  by  Illinois  Convention  at  Decatur 

as  "Rail"  candidate  for  President. 
May  16.     Nominated  for  President  by  Republicans 

at  Chicago. 
November,     Elected. 

1861 
February  11,     Left  Springfield  for  Washington. 
March  4.     Inaugurated  as  President. 

20 


CHRONOLOGY 

April  13.     Fall  of  Fort  Sumter. 

April  15.  Issued  call  for  volunteers,  and  convened 
Congress  in  extraordinary  session  for  July  4. 

July  21.     Battle  of  Bull  Run. 

July  25.  Appointed  McClellan  to  command  Army 
of  Potomac. 

November  1.  Appointed  McClellan  commander-in- 
chief,  under  the  President,  of  all  armies. 

December  3.     Message  to  Congress. 

December  25.  Ordered  the  return  of  Mason  and  Sli- 
dell,  captured  Commissioners  of  the  Confederacy, 
and  averted  war  with  England. 

1862 

January  13.  Appointed  Edwin  M.  Stanton  Secre- 
tary of  War. 

Sent  special  message  to  Congress,  recommending 
gradual  compensated  emancipation  of  slaves. 

July  11.     Appointed  Halleck  general-in-chief. 

September  22.  Issued  preliminary  proclamation  of 
emancipation  after  battle  of  Antietaip. 

December.  Message  to  Congress  again  urging 
gradual  compensated  emancipation. 

Superseded  McClellan  in  command  of  Army  of  the 
Potomac  by  Burnside. 

December  13.     Burnside  defeated  at  Fredericksburg. 

186S 
January  1.     Issued  Emancipation  Proclamation. 

21 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

January  26.  Appointed  Hooker  to  succeed  Burn- 
side. 

May  S.     Hooker  lost  battle  of  Chancellorsville. 

June  2*7.     Appointed  Meade  to  succeed  Hooker. 

July  1-4.     Battle  of  Gettysburg. 

July  4.     Fall  of  Vicksburg. 

September  19-20.     Battle  of  Chickamauga. 

November  19.  Delivered  address  at  dedication  of 
the  National  Cemetery  on  the  battlefield  of  Gettys- 
burg. 

November  24-25.  Grant  won  battles  of  Lookout 
Mountain  and  Missionary  Ridge. 

December  8.  Message  to  Congress  and  Proclama- 
tion of  Amnesty. 

1864 
March   3.     Commissioned   Grant   lieutenant-general 

and  placed  him  in  command  of  all  the  armies. 
June  7.     Renominated  for  President  by  Republican 

National  Convention  at  Baltimore. 
August  23.     Had  premonition  of  defeat, 
November  8.     Re-elected. 

1865 
February    1.     Hampton    Roads    Peace    Conference 

with  Confederate  Commissioners. 
March  4.     Inaugurated  as  President  a  second  time. 
March  22.     Visited  Grant  at  City  Point. 

22 


,i:| 


CHRONOLOGY 

April  4.     Entered  Richmond. 

April  14.     Shot  in  Ford's  Theatre  at  10.20  o'clock 

in  the  evening. 
April  15.     Died  at  7.22  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
May  4.     Buried  in  Springfield. 


23 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 


The  story  of  Lincoln,  perfect  in  its  unities, 
appealing  to  the  imagination  like  some  old 
tragedy,  has  been  told  over  and  over,  and  will 
be  told  over  and  over  again.  The  log  cabin 
where  he  was  born,  the  axe  he  swung  in  the 
backwoods,  the  long  sweep  to  which  he  bent  on 
the  flatboat  in  the  river,  the  pine  knot  at  mid- 
night,— these  are  the  rough  symbols  of  the 
forces  by  which  he  made  his  own  slow  way. 
Surveyor  and  legislator,  country  lawyer  riding 
the  circuit,  politician  on  the  stump  and  in  Con- 
gress, the  unwearied  rival  of  Douglas,  finally, 
as  the  luclcy  choice  of  a  new  party,  the  Presi- 
dent,— the  story  is  wholly  typical  of  these 
States  in  that  earlier  epoch  when  the  like  was 
possible  to  any  boy.     But  the  story  does  not 

27 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

end  here.  He  is  in  the  White  House  at  last, 
but  in  an  hour  when  reahsed  ambitions  turn  to 
ashes,  the  nation  is  divided,  a  crisis  confronts 
the  land,  and  menaces  the  old  cause  of  liberty. 
We  see  him  become  the  wise  leader  of  that  old 
cause,  the  sad,  gentle  captain  of  a  mighty  war, 
the  liberator  of  a  whole  race,  and  not  only  the 
saviour  of  a  republic,  but  the  creator  of  a  na- 
tion ;  and  then,  in  the  very  hour  of  triumph,— 
the  tragedy  for  which  destiny  plainly  marked 
him.  Rightly  told,  the  story  is  the  epic  of 
America. 

It  was  like  him  to  have  little  interest  in  his 
forbears.  In  the  brief  autobiographical  notes 
of  1859  he  mentioned  the  Lincolns  of  Massa- 
chusetts, but  he  did  not  Imow  that  with  them  he 
was  descended  from  those  Lincolns  who  came 
from  England  about  1635.  The  genealogists 
trace  the  line  down  to  that  Abraham  who,  in 
Kentucky  in  1788,  was  killed  by  the  Indians. 
The  tragedy  separated  the  family.     Thomas, 

the  youngest  son,  was  only  ten.     He  did  not 

28 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

even  know  how  to  read.  He  worked  as  he 
could,  became  a  carpenter,  and  in  1806  married 
his  cousin,  Nancy  Hanks,  whose  pathetic 
young  figure  has  emerged  from  mystery  as  the 
daughter  of  Joseph  Hanks  and  his  Quaker 
wife,  Nannie  Shipley,  whose  sister  Mary  was 
Thomas  Lincoln's  mother. 

At  Elizabethtown  a  daughter  was  born. 
Then  they  moved  to  a  farm  on  the  Big  South 
Fork  of  Nolin  Creek,  three  miles  from 
Hodgensville,  in  what  was  then  Hardin,  now 
LaBue,  County.  And  here  in  a  cabin,  on 
February  12, 1809,  their  second  child  was  born. 
They  named  him  Abraham,  after  old  Abraham, 
his  grandfather,  who  had  been  killed  by  the  In- 
dians. When  he  was  four  years  old,  his  father 
removed  to  Knob  Creek,  then,  in  1816,  aban- 
doned his  clearing,  and  went  to  Indiana.  He 
staked  off  a  claim  on  Pigeon  Creek,  near  Gen- 
tryville,  Spencer  County,  and  built  a  *'half- 
faced  camp"  of  unhewn  logs,  without  floor,  en- 
closed on  three  sides,  the  open  front  protected 
only  by  skins.     Here  they  lived  for  a  whole 

29 


ABRAHAJM  LINCOLN 

year.  Then  Thomas  and  Betsy  Sparrow  came, 
and  Dennis  Hanks,  and  they  reared  a  log 
cabin.  The  life  was  hard,  but  Abraham  could 
play  and  sometimes  hunt  with  his  cousin  Den- 
nis, though  he  was  too  tenderhearted  to  kill, 
and  after  one  day  shooting  a  wild  turkey,  he 
never  afterward,  as  he  was  able  to  record  in 
1860,  "pulled  the  trigger  on  any  larger  game." 
Despite  the  abounding  game,  however,  the  fare 
was  poor;  and  one  day,  after  the  "blessing"  had 
been  said  over  the  monotonous  potatoes,  the  boy 
looked  up  with  that  expression  which  in  later 
years  foretold  a  joke,  and  said,  "I  call  these 
mighty  poor  blessings." 

In  1818  the  settlement  was  swept  by  the 
dreaded  "milk-sick."  Thomas  and  Betsy 
Sparrow  died  of  it;  then  Thomas  Lincoln's 
wife  fell  ill.  She  lived  a  week,  and,  calling  the 
children  to  her  bed  of  skins  and  leaves,  she  told 
them  "to  love  their  kindred  and  worship  God," 
and  so  died.  There  were  no  ceremonies  at  this 
most  miserable  funeral,  and  the  winter  that 
came  upon  the   grave  in  the   forest,  where 

30 


ABRAHA]M  LIXCOLN 

Thomas  Lincoln  laid  his  wife  in  the  rude  coffin 
he  had  made,  beat  on  a  desolate  home.  The 
motherless  children  shivered  in  a  cabin  without 
a  floor,  and  the  sorrow  of  it  all,  the  mystery  of 
death,  the  loneliness  of  the  woods,  made  a  dark 
impression  on  the  sensitive  boy. 

But  back  in  Kentucky  there  was  a  widow, 
Sarah  Buck  Johnston,  once  a  sweetheart  of 
Thomas  Lincoln.  He  went  to  court  her,  and 
in  December,  1819,  they  wxre  man-ied.  Her 
household  goods — among  them  "a  walnut  bu- 
reau valued  at  fifty  dollars" — improved  the 
cabin,  and  the  family,  augmented  by  her  three 
children,  began  hfe  anew.  This  motherly 
housewife  dressed  the  forlorn  little  Lincohis  in 
her  own  childi-en's  clothes,  and  for  the  first  time 
they  knew"  the  luxury  of  a  feather  bed.  And, 
best  miracle  of  all,  she  inspii^ed  Thomas  to  lay 
a  floor,  mend  doors,  cut  windows,  and  plaster 
the  chinks  in  the  cabin  walls.  She  had  what 
poor  Xancy  Hanks  had  lacked, — the  robust 
strength  for  rude  labour.  She  was  a  "very  tall 
woman,  straight  as  an  Indian,  of  fair  complex- 

31 


ABRAHA]M  LINCOLN 

ion,  .  .  .  handsome,  sprightly,  talkative  and 
proud."  And  between  her  and  the  young  Ab- 
raham there  grew  a  love  which  was  to  last  all 
his  hf  e ;  she  said  he  was  the  best  son  woman  ever 
had.  Thomas  Lincoln  had  httle  patience  with 
*'bcok  learning,"  and,  failing  to  interest  Abra- 
ham in  carpentry,  hired  him  cut  to  neighbom'S. 
Ke  went  to  school,  as  he  said,  "by  httles," — 
scarcely  a  year  in  all;  but  he  learned  "reading, 
Vvriting  and  ciphering  to  the  Rule  o'  Three," 
became  an  excellent  penman,  and,  it  is  said, 
corrected  the  spelling  and  the  pronimciation  of 
the  family  name,  which  in  the  settlement  was 
"Linldiern"  or  "Linkhorn."  The  new  mother 
encouraged  him  to  study  at  home,  and  he  read 
"every  book  he  heard  of  within  a  circuit  of  fifty 
miles," — xtlurray's  English  Reader,  the  Bible, 
^^ sop's  Fables,  Bohlnson  Crusoe,  The  Pil- 
grimes  Progress,  a  History  of  the  L^nited 
States,  and  Weems's  Life  of  Washington, 
This  last  book  he  had  borrowed  of  Josiah  Craw- 
ford, and  one  night,  through  carelessness,  it 
was  stained  and  warped  by  rain.     Crawford 

32 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

made  him  pull  fodder  for  three  days  at  twenty- 
i5ve  cents  a  day  to  pay  for  the  volume,  and  the 
boy  in  revenge  bestowed  on  him  the  enduring 
nickname  of  *'Blue  Xose." 

From  these  books  he  made  extracts  in  brier- 
root  ink  with  a  pen  made  from  a  buzzard's 
quill.  Sometimes  he  figured  with  charcoal  on 
the  wooden  fire-shovel,  shaving  it  off  white  and 
clean  when  it  was  covered.  He  studied  by  the 
firelight,  and  was  up  with  his  book  at  dawn. 
He  read  everything,  even  the  Revised  Statutes 
of  Indiana;  and,  if  he  did  not  commit  its  con- 
tents to  memory, — for  so  preposterously  has 
the  legend  grown, — he  must  have  studied  the 
Declaration  of  Independence  and  the  Constitu- 
tion. He  would  mount  a  stump  and  harangue 
the  field  hands,  telling  even  then  his  stories  or 
imitating  to  the  life  the  last  itinerant  preacher 
who  had  passed  that  way.  He  wrote,  too, 
articles  on  "Temperance,"  on  "Government," 
and  on  "Cruelty  to  Animals."  Unkindness  he 
could  not  endure,  and  unkindness  was  not  un- 
common among  those  thoughtless  folk.     Thus 

33 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

he  made  friends — even  of  the  town  drunkard, 
whose  hfe  he  saved  one  night  by  dragging  him 
from  a  ditch.  He  even  attempted  rhymes  and 
satire,  not  always  in  the  best  taste,  avenging 
himself  on  Blue  Nose  Crawford  and  on  the 
Grigsbys  for  not  inviting  him  to  a  wedding. 
Of  course,  he  attended  court  over  at  Boonville, 
walking  fifteen  miles  to  watch  the  little  come- 
dies and  tragedies.  Once  he  was  bold  enough 
to  congratulate  counsel  for  defence  in  a  murder 
trial,  and  years  afterward,  in  the  White  House, 
the  greatest  of  the  Presidents  said  to  that  law- 
yer, "I  felt  that,  if  I  could  ever  make  as  good 
a  speech  as  that,  my  soul  would  be  satisfied." 
He  said  his  "father  taught  him  to  work,  but 
never  taught  him  to  love  it."  He  preferred  the 
pioneer  sports, — running  and  wrestling, — but 
he  did  work,  and  worked  hard,  making  rails, 
ploughing,  mowing,  doing  everything.  At 
nineteen  he  attained  his  extraordinary  physical 
growth,  "six  feet,  two  inches  tall,  weighing  one 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds — with  long  arms  and 
legs,  huge  and  awkward  feet  and  hands,  a  sleu- 

34 


!iiBRAHAM  LINCOLN 

der  body  and  small  head."  Surely,  an  un- 
gainly figure,  almost  grotesque,  in  coon-skin 
cap,  linsey-woolsey  shirt,  and  buckskin  breeches 
so  short  that  they  exposed  his  shins.  He  was 
said  to  be  "equal  to  three  men,"  able  to  'lift  and 
bear  a  pair  of  logs."  He  could  "strike  with  a 
maul  a  heavier  blow — could  sink  an  axe  deeper 
into  wood  than  any  man  I  ever  saw." 

In  1828  he  went  for  the  first  time  out  into 
the  world  as  bowman  on  a  flatboat,  down  to 
New  Orleans.  It  was  an  adventure  for  him,  of 
course, — at  Baton  Rouge  a  fight  with  negroes, 
at  New  Orleans  the  levees  and  the  slave  mart. 

Thus  he  grew  and  came  to  manhood,  with 
some  knowledge  of  books,  some  knowledge  of 
men,  some  knowledge  of  life.  His  learning 
was  tainted  with  the  superstitions  that  were  rife 
in  the  settlement,  and  always,  in  a  measure, 
they  clung  to  him,  to  merge  in  later  years  into 
the  mysticism  of  his  poetic  nature.  There  had 
been  sorrows,  too :  his  sister  Sarah  had  married 
and  died  in  child-birth;  then  in  1829  the  milk- 
sick  again,  and  the  call  of  the  West. 

35 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

In  March,  1830,  they  set  out  for  Illinois. 
The  tall  young  Abraham,  in  coonskin  cap  and 
buckskins,  strode  beside  the  huge  wagon,  wield- 
ing a  long  gad  over  the  oxen.  They  were  two 
weeks  on  the  way,  over  roads  that  froze  by 
night  and  thawed  by  day,  but  at  last  they  all 
arrived  safely  in  the  Sangamon  country,  even 
the  dog  which,  left  behind  one  morning  after 
they  had  forded  a  stream,  looked  with  such  re- 
proachful eyes  that  the  tender-hearted  Abra- 
ham waded  to  his  rescue  back  through  the  icy 
waters.  John  Hanks  met  them  five  miles 
north-west  of  Decatur,  in  IMacon  County ;  and 
on  a  bluff  overlooking  the  muddy  Sangamon 
they  built  a  cabin,  split  rails,  fenced  in  fifteen 
acres,  and  broke  the  virgin  prairie.  Abraham 
was  twenty-one  and  free.  He  remained  in 
IMacon  County,  however,  that  winter,  splitting 
rails,  "four  hundred  for  every  yard  of  jeans 
dyed  with  walnut  juice  necessary  to  make  him 
a  pair  of  trousers,"  and  all  of  them  for  history, 
and  in  the  spring  found  a  patron  in  Denton 
Offut,  an  adventurer  who  engaged  him,  with 

36 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

Hanks,  to  take  a  boat-load  of  provisions  to 
New  Orleans.  At  New  Salem  the  boat 
grounded  on  a  dam,  and  but  for  Lincoln's  inge- 
nuity would  have  been  broken  up.  The  inci- 
dent moved  Lincoln  to  invent  and  ultimately, 
in  1849,  to  patent  an  apparatus  to  lift  vessels 
over  shoals,  and  it  introduced  him  to  New 
Salem  with  eclat,  for  the  people  gathered  and 
cheered  the  young  navigator  when  he  cleverly 
contrived  to  get  his  boat  off  the  dam  and  on  its 
way.  At  New  Orleans  he  spent  a  month  on 
the  levee,  among  the  half-savage  rivermen ;  and 
the  slave  mart  brought  home  to  him  in  all  poign- 
ancy and  pity  the  institution  he  had  already  be- 
gun to  study  and,  perhaps,  to  hate. 

In  August  he  was  back  at  New  Salem,  "a 
piece  of  floating  driftwood,"  as  he  said,  await- 
ing Offut,  who  was  to  open  a  store.  The  vil- 
lage had  a  busy  land  office,  twenty  log  cabins, 
and  a  hundred  inhabitants.  In  seven  years  it 
had  vanished  from  the  earth.  Here  Lincoln 
loafed  about,  a  river  boatman  out  of  a  job,  un- 
til election  day,  and  then,  naturally,  loafed 

37 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

about  the  polls.  Mentor  Graham,  village 
schoolmaster,  clerk  of  elections,  needed  an  as- 
sistant, and,  looking  up,  saw  the  tall,  young 
stranger.  "Can  you  write  ?"  he  asked.  "I  can 
make  a  few  rabbit  tracks,"  said  Lincoln.  He 
did  the  work  to  Graham's  satisfaction,  and, 
while  the  voters  straggled  up,  "spun  a  stock  of 
Indiana  yarns."  They  made  a  hit,  and  New 
Salem  long  afterwards  repeated  his  stories, 
even  those,  perhaps,  that  would  better  not  have 
been  repeated.  Offut  opened  his  store,  put 
Lincoln  in  charge,  bragged  of  him,  and  claimed 
that  he  could  outrun,  whip,  or  throw  any  man 
in  Sangamon  County.  The  "Clary's  Grove 
Boys" — the  name  itself  suggests  their  charac- 
ter— issued  promptly  from  their  strip  of  tim- 
ber, declaring  that  Jack  Armstrong  was  "a  bet- 
ter man  than  Lincoln."  Lincoln  said  he  did 
not  like  to  "tussle  and  scuffle,"  and  despised 
"pulling  and  woohng,"  but  he  was  badgered 
into  it,  and  gave  their  champion  a  famous 
thrashing.  The  victory  established  him  in 
New    Salem,   and  the   Clary's   Grove   Boys 

38 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

formed  the  nucleus  of  his  poUtical  following. 
Before  long  he  had  part  in  a  picturesque  scene, 
piloting  the  first  steamboat,  the  Talisman,  up 
the  Sangamon.  There  was  a  banquet  at 
Springfield  to  celebrate  the  event,  but  Lincoln 
was  not  invited.  Only  the  "gentlemen"  were 
asked,  and  Lincoln  was  but  a  pilot.  Within  a 
year  Offut  failed,  and  Lincoln  found  himself 
floating  driftwood  again. 

A  young  man  in  the  Illinois  of  1832,  who 
was  ambitious,  given  to  stump-speaking,  to  the 
reading  of  history  and  of  law,  and  to  arguing  in 
country  stores,  must  necessarily  have  found  a 
lively  interest  in  politics.  So  it  was  with  Lin- 
coln. From  youth  he  had  been  attracted  by 
the  romantic  figure  of  Henry  Clay,  and  had 
adopted  most  of  his  political  principles.  If  he 
was  not  a  Whig,  he  was  Whiggish,  as  Lamon 
puts  it.  To  one  of  Clay's  principles,  that  of 
gradual,  compensated  emancipation,  he  clung 
with  devotion  all  his  life.  In  March,  there- 
fore, of  the  year  under  notice,  he  announced 
himself  as  a  candidate  for  the  legislature,  de- 

39 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLlSr 

daring  in  favour  of  *^at  least  a  moderate  educa- 
tion" for  every  man,  and  a  law  against  usury, 
though  "in  cases  of  extreme  necessity  there 
could  always  be  means  found  to  cheat  the  law. 
.  .  .  My  case  is  thrown  exclusively  upon  the 
independent  voters  of  the  county.  .  .  .  But  if 
the  good  people  in  their  wisdom  shall  see  fit  to 
keep  me  in  the  background,  I  have  been  too 
familiar  with  disappointments  to  be  very  much 
chagrined."' 

Here,  indeed,  with  the  people  he  had  to  leave 
his  case,  for  his  campaign  was  presently  inter- 
rupted by  the  Black  Hawk  War.  The  old 
chief  of  the  Sacs,  who  gave  his  name  to  this  last 
Indian  uprising  in  Illinois,  had  broken  the 
treaties  by  which  the  tribes  had  gone  beyond 
the  Mississippi,  and,  asserting  that  "land  can- 
not be  sold,"  appeared  at  the  head  of  his  braves 
in  war  paint  on  the  ancestral  hunting-grounds 
in  northern  Illinois.  Governor  Reynolds 
called  for  volunteers,  and  Lincoln  was  among 
the  first  to  respond.  The  Clary's  Grove  Boys, 
glad  of  a  chance  of  fun  and  fighting,  enlisted 

40 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

enthusiastically,  and  elected  Lincoln  captain, — 
*'a  success,"  he  afterwards  wrote,  *'which  gave 
me  more  pleasure  than  any  I  have  had  since." 
His  enjoymentfof  the  whole  experience,  indeed, 
seems  to  have  been  keen.  But  withal  there 
were  weariness  and  hardship.  He  was  learn- 
ing something  of  the  gentle  art  of  ruling  men, 
though  with  his  company,  impatient  of  disci- 
pline, the  art  was  not  so  gentle,  after  all;  and 
there  is  an  instance  in  which  Captain  Lincoln 
had  to  face  his  whole  command,  mutinous  and 
threatening,  and  to  put  his  own  body  between 
them  and  a  poor  friendly  Indian  who,  with  safe 
conduct  from  General  Cass,  had  taken  refuge 
in  camp.  When  his  company  was  mustered 
out,  he  re-enlisted  immediately  as  a  private. 
He  saw  no  fighting  and  killed  no  Indians,  and 
was  able  long  afterward  to  convulse  Congress 
by  a  humorous  account  of  his  "war  record." 
The  war  ended  in  July,  and  he  got  back  to  New 
Salem  in  time  to  stump  the  county  before  the 
election  in  August,  when  he  was  defeated, — 
"the  only  time,"  as  he  said  in  the  Autohiog- 

41 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

raphy,  "I  have  ever  been  beaten  by  the  peo- 
ple." 

Failing  of  employment  in  the  three  village 
groceries,  he  and  a  man  named  Berry  bought 
out  one  of  them,  giving  their  notes  for  the  pur- 
chase price.  Then,  by  the  same  means,  they 
bought  out  the  other  two,  and  thus  had  a 
monopoly.  But  unlike  some  monopolies,  even 
when  procured  by  such  financiering,  this  did 
not  succeed.  Then  the  firm  secured  a  license 
to  sell  liquor, — an  incident  of  the  business  in 
those  days, — but  Berry  drank  up  the  liquor 
himself,  while  Lincoln,  his  heels  cocked  up  on 
the  counter,  or  sprawling  under  a  tree  outside 
the  door,  was  reading  Shakespeare,  Burns, 
Gibbon,  Rollin,  and  a  httle  later  Paine  and 
Voltaire.  It  is  said  that  he  wrote  a  mono- 
graph on  Deism  which  was  burned  by  a  friend, 
who  just  then  had  more  political  sense  than 
Lincoln,  though  later  on  neither  he  nor  any  man 
could  have  had  more.  Next  he  was  deep  in 
Blackstone.  He  had  found  the  book  in  a 
barrel  of  rubbish  he  had  obligingly  bought  from 

42 


ABRAHAJNI  LINCOLN 

some  poor  fellow  in  trouble,  and  nothing  had 
ever  so  interested  and  absorbed  him.  He  be- 
gan, too,  with  the  help  of  Mentor  Graham,  the 
study  of  EngUsh  grammar. 

With  both  members  of  the  firm  thus  preoc- 
cupied, it  is  not  surprising  that  in  the  spring 
of  1833  the  business  "winked  out,"  to  use  Lin- 
coln's phrase.  He  was  not  a  "business  man" 
then  or  ever.  Soon  Berry  died,  and  Lincoln 
was  left  alone  with  the  firm's  indebtedness, 
about  twelve  hundred  dollars, — ^to  him  an  ap- 
palling sum.  But,  with  the  humour  that  saved 
every  situation  to  him,  he  called  it  "the  national 
debt,"  and,  paying  it  as  he  could,  he  was  thus 
referring  to  it  as  late  as  1848,  sending  home 
part  of  his  salary  as  Congressman  to  apply 
on  it. 

In  May  he  was  commissioned  postmaster 
of  New  Salem.  The  office  was  so  small  that 
old  Andrew  Jackson  must  have  overlooked  it, 
— so  small,  indeed,  that  Lincoln  distributed  the 
letters  from  his  hat  and  read  the  newspapers 
before  he  delivered  them.     But  he  was  scrupu- 

43 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

lous  always,  and  years  afterv»^ard,  when  a  gov- 
ernment agent  came  to  Springfield  to  make 
settlement,  Lincoln  from  his  trmik  drew  forth 
"an  old  blue  sock  with  a  quantity  of  silver  and 
copper  coin  tied  up  in  it,"  and  was  able  to  turn 
over  the  identical  moneys  he  had  collected  in  his 
official  capacity,  which,  often  and  sorely  as  he 
had  needed  money,  he  had  never  touched. 

And  now  he  got  a  better  chance.  With  the 
wild  speculation  in  Illinois  lands,  John  Cal- 
houn, county  surveyor,  had  more  than  he  could 
do,  and  offered  Lincoln  a  post  as  deputy.  Lin- 
coln knew  nothing  of  surveying,  but  said  he 
could  learn,  and,  bargaining  for  political  free- 
dom,— Calhoun  was  a  Democrat, — he  mastered 
the  science  and  went  to  work.  His  surveys 
were  accurate,  and  he  was  doing  well,  when 
suddenly  "the  national  debt"  loomed  before  him 
in  the  sinister  figure  of  a  man  who  held  notes 
of  the  extinct  firm.  But  he  found  friends,  and 
James  Short  and  Bowling  Green,  justice  of  the 
peace,  redeemed  for  him  his  horse  and  survey- 
ing instruments  which  the  creditor  had  levied 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

on.  Indeed,  the  whole  story  of  those  New 
Salem  days  is  the  story  of  the  kindness,  the 
helpfulness,  that  always  prevail  among  the 
poor.  One  picture  reveals  it  all.  Hannah 
Armstrong,  the  wife  of  that  Jack  whom  Lin- 
coln thrashed,  always  had  milk  and  mush  or 
cornbread  for  him.  He  would  ''bring  the  chil- 
dren candy,  and  rock  the  cradle  while  she  got 
him  something  to  eat."  And,  when  Lincoln 
got  buckskins  as  his  first  pay  for  surveying 
Hannah  "foxed"  them  on  his  trousers.  In 
1834  Lincoln  again  offered  himself  for  the  leg- 
islature. All  that  summer  he  was  electioneer- 
ing, making  speeches,  lifting  and  throwing 
weights,  wrestling,  cradling  in  the  harvest 
fields,  telling  stories.  He  was  elected  this  time, 
at  the  head  of  the  poll;  and  an  old  friend  of 
the  Black  Hawk  War,  Major  John  T.  Stuart, 
was  one  of  the  successful  candidates  on  the 
ticket  with  him.  Stuart  loaned  him  law  books, 
and  Lincoln  began  to  practise,  in  the  small  way 
of  the  pettifogger,  before  Squire  Bowling 
Green. 

45 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

When  the  legislature  convened  at  Vandalia, 
he  was  there,  making  "a  decent  appearance" 
in  new  clothes,  for  the  purchase  of  which  an- 
other New  Salem  friend  had  loaned  the  money. 
He  spent  the  winter  there,  reading  in  the  State 
library,  and  learning  otherwise  of  laws  and  the 
curious  making  of  them.  He  was  assigned,  in- 
appropriately, it  would  seem,  to  the  House 
Committee  on  Finance.  Many  of  the  men  he 
met  were  cast  for  big  parts  in  the  drama  just 
then  opening  in  Illinois,  among  them  a  dashing 
youth  of  twenty-two,  lately  come  from  Ver- 
mont, with  but  thirty-seven  cents  in  his  pocket, 
but  already  admitted  to  the  bar  and  running  for 
office, — Stephen  A.  Douglas,  whom  Lincoln 
noted  as  "the  least  man  I  ever  saw."  For 
twenty-eight  years  this  least  man  was  to  be  his 
rival,  even  in  love,  though  he  was  not  his  rival 
in  the  love  which  then  was  filling  Lincoln's  sus- 
ceptible heart.  Back  in  New  Salem  he  had  left 
Anne  Rutledge,  a  pretty  maid  with  auburn 
hair  and  blue  eyes.  But  Anne  was  already 
betrothed.     Her  lover,  James  McNamar,  had 

46 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

gone  back  East,  promising  to  return.  After 
a  while  his  letters  ceased.  Then  there  was 
rumour,  while  Anne  waited — and  Lincoln  al- 
ways at  her  side,  wooing  her,  even  at  the  quilt- 
ing bees.  She  sang  for  him,  and  sometimes, 
one  could  wish,  songs  more  cheerful  than  those 
hymns  the  chroniclers  report.  It  seems  prob- 
able that  the  verses,  "Oh,  why  should  the  spirit 
of  mortal  be  proud?"  were  learned  from  her, 
and  that  they  owed  their  almost  morbid  fascina- 
tion for  him  to  an  association  with  this  phase 
and  period.  Soon  Anne  sickened,  and  in 
August  died.  New  Salem  said  it  was  of  a 
broken  heart,  but  toward  the  end  she  sent  for 
Lincoln,  and  he  was  at  the  bedside,  alone  with 
her. 

After  her  death  there  settled  upon  him  a  ter- 
rible despondency.  That  fall  and  winter  he 
wandered  alone  in  the  woods,  along  the  Sanga- 
mon, almost  crazed  with  sorrow.  "The  very 
thought  of  the  rains  and  snows  falling  upon 
her  grave  filled  him  with  indescribable  grief." 
His  friends  watched  him,  and  at  last,  when  on 

47 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

the  very  verge  of  insanity,  Bowling  Green  took 
him  to  his  home,  nursed  him  back  to  health,  and 
the  grief  faded  to  that  temperamental  melan- 
choly which,  relieved  only  by  his  hmnour,  was 
part  of  the  poet  there  was  in  him,  part  of  the 
prophet,  the  sadness  that  so  early  baptised  him 
in  the  tragedy  of  life,  and  taught  him  pity  for 
the  suffering  of  a  world  of  men. 

In  July  he  was  running  for  the  legislature 
again.  "I  go  for  all  sharing  the  privileges  of 
the  government  who  assist  in  bearing  its  bur- 
dens," he  said  in  his  address.  "Consequently, 
I  go  for  admitting  all  whites  to  the  right  of 
suffrage  who  pay  taxes  or  bear  arms  (by  no 
means  excluding  females).  ...  If  elected,  I 
shall  consider  the  whole  people  of  Sangamon 
my  constituents,  as  well  those  that  oppose  as 
those  that  support  me.  While  acting  as  their 
representative  I  shall  be  governed  by  their  will 
on  all  subjects  upon  which  I  have  the  means  of 
knowing  what  their  will  is ;  and  upon  all  others 
I  shall  do  what  my  own  judgment  teaches  me 
will  best  advance  their  interests." 

48 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

The  whole  theory  of  representative  govern- 
ment was  never  more  clearly  understood,  never 
more  clearly  expressed.  Even  then  he  had  an 
occult  sense  of  public  opinion,  knew  what  the 
general  mind  was  thinking.  Always  funda- 
mentally democratic,  he  was  so  close  to  the 
heart  of  humanity  that  intuitively  he  measured 
its  mighty  pulsations,  and  believed  that  the 
public  mind  was  not  far  from  the  right.  Years 
afterward,  expressing  his  belief  in  the  people's 
judgment  as  the  one  authority  in  affairs,  he 
asked,  "Is  there  any  better  or  equal  hope?" 

One  incident  of  that  bitter  campaign  must 
be  given.  George  Forquer,  a  Whig,  about 
the  time  he  changed  his  politics  and  became  a 
Democrat,  received  appointment  as  register  of 
the  Land  Office.  His  house,  the  finest  resi- 
dence in  Springfield,  was  distinguished  for  its 
lightning  rod,  the  first  that  Lincoln  or  Spring- 
field had  ever  seen.  At  a  meeting  held  near 
Forquer's  home,  Lincoln  spoke,  and,  when  he 
had  done,  Forquer  announced  that  *'he  would 
have  to  take  the  young  man  down."     Lincoln 

49 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

stood  by  with  folded  arms,  endured  the  attack, 
and  then,  replying  spiritedly,  concluded  by  say- 
ing: "The  gentleman  has  seen  fit  to  allude  to 
my  being  a  young  man;  but  he  forgets  that  I 
am  older  in  years  than  I  am  in  the  tricks  and 
trades  of  politicians.  I  desire  to  live,  and  I 
desire  place  and  distinction,  but  I  would  rather 
die  now  than,  like  the  gentleman,  live  to  see 
the  day  that  I  would  change  my  politics  for  an 
office  worth  three  thousand  dollars  a  year,  and 
then  feel  compelled  to  erect  a  lightning  rod  to 
protect  a  guilty  conscience  from  an  offended 
God." 

The  Whig  ticket  was  elected,  Lincoln  lead- 
ing the  poll.  The  Sangamon  delegation,  seven 
representatives  and  two  senators,  each  over  six 
feet  tall,  were  known  as  the  "Long  Nine." 
"All  of  the  bad  or  objectionable  laws  passed 
at  that  session,"  says  one  of  them,  "and  for 
many  years  afterwards,  were  chargeable  to  the 
management  and  influence  of  the  *Long 
Nine.' "  An  extensive  system  of  public  im- 
provements was  being  urged, — canals  and  rail- 

50 


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ABRAHAM  LINCOLN         ^ 

roads,  to  be  paid  for  from  the  proceeds  of  the 
sale  of  pubhc  lands,  as  Lincoln  said,  "without 
borrowing  money  and  paying  the  interest  on 
it."  This  wonderful  scheme  was  to  develop 
Illinois  immediately,  and  the  people  were 
dazzled  by  it.  Lincoln,  infatuated  like  the 
rest,  was  already  dreaming  of  the  governor- 
ship, confiding  to  a  friend  his  purpose  to  be- 
come the  "DeWitt  Clinton  of  Ilhnois."  At 
Vandalia  he  was  the  leader  of  the  Long  Nine, 
and  laboured  to  advance  this  project.  The 
Assembly  voted  to  construct  the  system  of  rail- 
roads and  canals,  and  authorised  an  immediate 
loan  of  $12,000,000.  Such  a  colossal  scheme, 
making  or  blasting  communities,  afforded,  of 
course,  infinite  opportunity  for  local  and  spe- 
cial legislation.  In  such  an  atmosphere  of 
manoeuvre,  Lincoln  was  wholly  in  his  element. 
None  knew  human  nature  better  than  he,  none 
was  more  expert  in  log-rolling,  and  he  and  his 
"Long  Nine"  rolled  their  logs  so  skilfully  that 
they  succeeded  in  removing  the  capital  of  Il- 
linois to  Springfield. 

51 


U.  OF  ILL  LIB. 


ABRAHAJNI  LINCOLN 

And  yet,  while  all  this  showed  that  he  knew 
perhaps  more  of  the  tricks  and  trades  of  the 
politicians  than  he  had  admitted  in  his  en- 
counter with  Forquer,  he  was  true  to  principle. 
When  the  legislature  adopted  resolutions 
"highly  disapproving"  of  "the  formation  of 
abolition  societies  and  the  doctrines  promul- 
gated by  them,"  Lincoln  voted  against  them; 
and,  while  nothing  more  was  demanded  of  him, 
— certainly  half  so  much  could  not  have  been 
expected  of  a  mere  politician, — he  drew  up  a 
protest  against  the  resolutions,  and  inducing 
his  colleague,  Dan  Stone,  to  sign  it  with  him, 
had  the  protest  entered  upon  the  journal  for 
March  3,  1837.  The  protest  was  cautiously 
worded,  but  it  did  declare  that  "the  institution 
of  slavery  is  founded  on  both  injustice  and  bad 
policy." 

When  the  "Long  Nine"  went  home  in 
March,  taking  the  capital  with  them,  a  celebra- 
tion was  arranged,  the  like  of  which  Spring- 
field had  not  seen  since  that  day  the  Talisman 
came  up  the  Sangamon.     There  was  a  ban- 

52 


AEKAHA3I  LINCOLN 

quet,  and,  though  Lmcoln  was  as  much  the 
pilot  in  this  enterprise  as  he  had  been  in  the 
other,  the  fact  did  not  exclude  him:  rather  it 
gave  him  place  at  the  head  of  the  board.  He 
was  toasted  as  "one  of  nature's  noblemen,"  as 
one  who  "has  fulfilled  the  expectations  of  his 
friends  and  disappointed  the  hopes  of  his  ene- 
mies," and,  of  course,  he  made  a  speech.  It 
is  not  strange  that  after  this  he  should  remove 
to  Springfield,  for  he  had  finished  liis  law  stud- 
ies, and  ]March  24,  1836,  had  been  "certified  as 
of  good  moral  character"  for  admission  to  the 
bar. 


53 


II 

The  new  capital  of  Illinois  in  the  spring  of 
1837  was  a  town  of  less  than  two  thousand  in- 
habitants, deep  in  mud,  and  yet  to  Lincoln,  en- 
tering one  morning  the  store  of  Joshua  Speed 
with  all  his  belongings  in  his  saddle-bags, 
it  was  a  metropolis.  Speed  said  the  young 
man  had  the  saddest  face  he  ever  saw ;  though 
when  told  that  he  could  share  Speed's  bed  in  a 
room  above,  and  Lincoln  had  shambled  up, 
dropped  his  saddle-bags,  and  shambled  down 
again.  Speed  smiled  at  the  dry  way  in  which 
Lincoln  remarked, — 

''Well,  Speed,  I'm  moved." 

But  the  town  was  not  so  small  that  it  could 
not  boast  social  distinctions.  The  Todds, 
Stuarts,  and  Edwardses  were  there,  and,  with 
the  Lambs,  Mathers,  Opdykes,  Forquers,  and 
Fords,  were  the  leaders  of  the  provincial  aris- 
tocracy.    Lincoln  observed  all  this,  and  soon 

54 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

was  writing  to  a  girl  he  had  been  in  love  with 
that  there  "is  a  good  deal  of  flourishing  about 
in  carriages  here,"  though  he  wrote  this,  it 
seems,  in  warning  rather  than  in  entreaty,  ex- 
plaining that,  as  his  wife,  she  "would  be  poor, 
without  the  means  of  concealing  her  poverty." 
This  latest  love  was  Mary  Owens,  to  whom 
quixotically  he  felt  himself  bound,  but  erelong 
he  wrote :  "If  you  feel  yourself  in  any  degree 
bound  to  me,  I  am  now  willing  to  release  you, 
provided  you  wish  it ;  while,  on  the  other  hand, 
I  am  willing  to  bind  you  faster,  if  I  can  be  con- 
vinced that  it  will  in  any  considerable  degree 
add  to  your  happiness."  This  cautious  letter 
naturally  ended  the  affair,  as  it  was  probably 
intended  to  do.  Mary  Owens  never  took  his 
attentions  too  seriously.  While  she  respected 
him,  she  considered  him  "  deficient  in  those 
little  links  which  make  up  the  chain  of  woman's 
happiness." 

Meanwhile  he  had  begun  to  practise  law. 
His  old  friend  of  the  Black  Hawk  War,  Major 
John  T.  Stuart,  who  had  loaned  him  law  books, 

55 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

took  him  into  partnership.  To  Stuart,  as  to 
so  many  lawyers,  the  law  was  but  a  milieu  for 
politics;  he  was  contesting  the  Congressional 
election  with  Douglas,  and,  as  Lincoln  himself 
was  thinking  more  of  politics  than  of  law,  it  is 
.  not  strange  that  the  business  suffered.  Lin- 
coln spent  his  time  at  Speed's  store,  talking 
politics  and  arguing  religion.  He  delivered 
a  highly  rhetorical  address  before  "The  Young 
Men's  Lyceum"  on  "The  Perpetuation  of  our 
Free  Institutions,"  and  in  the  Presbyterian 
church  he  engaged  in  a  formal  partisan  debate 
with  Douglas,  Calhoun,  Lamborn,  and 
Thomas.  In  1838  he  was  again  elected  to  the 
legislature,  and  was  minority  candidate  for 
Speaker.  The  panic  of  1837  had  brought  to 
Illinois  the  hour  of  reckoning  for  the  internal 
improvement  bubble,  and  in  that  session  Lin- 
coln, again  on  the  Finance  Committee,  trying 
to  repair  the  mischief  he  had  helped  to  make, 
owned  that  he  was  "no  financier,"  and  admitted 
his  "share  of  the  responsibility  in  the  present 
crisis."     In  1840  he  was  again  elected,  and 

56 


ABRAHAJM  LINCOLN 

again  defeated  for  Speaker,  and  nothing  more 
important  befell  during  that  session  than  his 
joining  other  Whigs  in  an  ignominious  flight 
through  the  window  in  order  to  break  a 
quorum.  In  the  campaign  he  had  had  many 
exciting  engagements, — one,  for  instance,  with 
Jesse  B.  Thomas,  a  Democrat  who  in  a  speech 
attacked  the  "Long  Nine,"  Lincoln  especially. 
Lincoln  replied,  and  with  that  talent  which 
years  before  had  amused  Gentryville,  mimicked 
Thomas  in  voice  and  manner,  while  the  crowd 
roared  with  delight.  Carried  away,  he  ex- 
posed Thomas  to  such  scathing  ridicule  that 
the  poor  fellow  actually  wept.  The  event  was 
destined  to  live  in  local  annals  as  "the  skinning 
of  Thomas,"  but  it  was  a  triumph  of  which 
Lincoln  was  so  ashamed  that  he  hunted  up 
his  victim,  implored  forgiveness,  and  tried  to 
heal  the  Vv^ounds  he  had  inflicted.  Less  and  less 
thereafter  did  he  resort  to  the  unworthy  weap- 
ons he  could  wield  so  skilfully,  but  more  and 
more  invoked  the  power  of  reason  and  of  his 
own  kindly  humour. 

57 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

He  had,  too,  conflicts  with  Douglas,  as  he 
was  destined  to  have  for  a  quarter  of  a  century, 
for  in  that  year  of  the  gay  campaign  for 
* 'Tippecanoe  and  Tyler  too,"  Lincoln  was  on 
the  Whig,  and  Douglas  on  the  Democratic, 
electoral  ticket.  The  campaign  had  hardly 
ended  with  the  triumph  of  Harrison  than  the 
two  entered  into  another  rivalry, — this  time  for 
the  hand  of  a  woman.  Mary  Todd,  a  Ken- 
tucky girl,  had  come  to  Springfield  to  visit  her 
sister,  JNIrs.  Ninian  W.  Edwards,  and  in  the 
local  aristocracy  that  "flourished  about  in  car- 
riages" soon  was  the  reigning  belle,  with  Lin- 
coln and  Douglas  in  her  train.  In  the  pursuit 
of  a  proud,  clever  girl,  who  "spoke  French 
or  English  with  equal  fluency,"  the  brilliant, 
dashing  Douglas  might  have  been  expected  to 
distance  the  slow,  ungainly  Lincoln.  Some 
account  for  her  preference  for  Lincoln  on  the 
strained  hypothesis  that  she  had  determined  to 
marry  a  future  President,  which  is  absurd,  be- 
cause Douglas  then  seemed  more  likely  than 
any  imknown  young  man  in  Springfield  to 

58 


ABRAHA:M  LINCOLN 

reach  that  lofty  chair,  and  it  was  not  many- 
years  before  he  seemed  the  hkehest  man  in  all 
America.  But  Mary  Todd  made  her  own 
choice,  and  she  and  Lincoln  were  engaged  to 
be  married  on  New  Year's  Day,  184<1.  But, 
after  the  day  was  set,  Lincohi  was  filled  with 
uncertainty.  Springfield  intimated  a  new  at- 
taclmient,  another  pretty  face.  The  day  came, 
the  wedding  w^as  not  solemnised.  Now  there 
came  upon  him  again  that  black  and  aw^ful  mel- 
ancholy. He  neglected  the  law,  neglected  the 
legislature,  and  wandered  about,  as  before,  in 
utter  gloom,  actually,  it  is  said,  contemplating 
suicide.  "I  am  now  the  most  miserable  man 
living,"  he  wrote  to  Stuart.  "If  what  I  feel 
were  equally  distributed  to  the  whole  human 
family,  there  would  not  be  one  cheerful  face  on 
earth.  ...  To  remain  as  I  am  is  impossible. 
I  must  die  or  be  better,  as  it  appears  to  me." 

To  distract  him,  Joshua  Speed,  probably  the 
closest  friend  he  ever  had,  took  him  away  to 
Kentucky,  and  there,  amid  new  scenes,  he  im- 
proved, though  he  bemoaned  the  fact  "that  he 

59 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

had  done  nothing  to  make  any  human  being  re- 
member that  he  had  Hved."  Speed  himself 
was  engaged  to  be  married,  and,  curiously 
enough,  had  an  experience  of  uncertainty 
similar  to  Lincoln's.  On  his  return  to  Spring-, 
field,  Lincoln  wrote  Speed  a  series  of  letters, 
arguing  against  Speed's  feehngs,  perhaps  at 
the  same  time  arguing  against  his  own,  and 
when  Speed  was  married  at  last,  and  happy, 
he  wrote:  *'It  cannot  be  told  how  it  thrills  me 
with  joy  to  hear  you  say  you  are  'far  happier 
than  you  ever  expected  to  be.'  .  .  .  Your  last 
letter  gave  me  more  pleasure  than  the  total  sum 
of  all  I  have  enjoyed  since  that  fatal  first  of 
January,  1841.  .  .  .  I  camiot  but  reproach 
myself  for  even  wishing  to  be  happy  when  she 
is  otherwise.  She  accompanied  a  large  party 
on  the  railroad  cars  to  Jacksonville  last  Mon- 
day, and  on  her  return  spoke,  so  that  I  heard  of 
it,  of  having  enjoyed  the  trip  exceedingly. 
God  be  praised  for  that!" 

About  this  time  occurred  another  incident 
that  influenced  this  odd  courtship.     The  Audi- 

60 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

tor  of  State,  James  Shields,  a  "gallant,  hot- 
headed bachelor  from  Tyrone  County,  Ire- 
land," afterwards  a  general  and  senator  from 
three  States,  had  had  his  vanity  wounded  by  the 
publication  in  the  Sangamon  Journal  of  * 'Let- 
ters from  Lost  Townships."  These  political 
lampoons  were  exactly  of  a  style  and  humour  to 
please  Lincoln,  and,  when  he  learned  that  their 
author  was  JMary  Todd,  he  was  moved  himself 
to  write  another  in  like  vein.  Shields  de- 
manded the  name  of  the  author.  The  timid 
editor  consulted  Lincoln,  who  embraced  the  op- 
portunity of  chivalry  by  taking  on  himself  the 
whole  responsibility.  There  followed  a  chal- 
lenge from  Shields,  and,  observing  every  ab- 
surdity of  the  code  of  honour,  a  duel  was  ar- 
ranged, Lincoln  choosing  "cavalry  broadswords 
of  the  largest  size."  The  duelling  ground  was 
near  Alton,  and  principals  and  seconds  had 
repaired  there,  when  "friends  effected  an  ar- 
rangement." The  affair  got  into  the  news- 
papers, and  Lincoln  was  so  ashamed  of  the 
escapade  that  no  one  ever  dared  mention  it  in 

61 


ABRAHAJNI  LINCOLN 

his  presence.  "If  all  the  good  things  I  have 
ever  done,"  he  said,  "are  remembered  as  long 
and  well  as  my  scrape  with  Shields,  it  is  plain  I 
shall  not  soon  be  forgotten."  But  it  helped 
to  bring  him  and  Mary  Todd  together,  and  on 
November  4,  1842,  they  were  married.  If  it 
was  a  marriage  not  ideally  happy,  it  may  be 
conjectured  that  a  happier  one  would  have 
interfered  with  that  career  for  which  destiny 
was  preparing  him. 

In  April,  1841,  Stuart  having  been  sent  to 
Congress,  Lincoln  accepted  the  opportunity  to 
end  the  partnership  and  formed  another  with 
Judge  Stephen  T.  Logan,  a  little,  weazened 
man,  with  high,  shrill  voice  and  a  great  plume 
of  yellowed  white  hair,  but  picturesque  in  his 
old  cape,  and  accounted  the  best  law}^er  in  Il- 
linois. He  loved  money,  and  kept  most  of  the 
earnings ;  but  this  did  not  trouble  Lincoln,  who 
loved  men  more  than  money,  and  regarded 
wealth  as  "simply  a  superfluity  of  things  we 
don't  need."  Contact  with  Logan  made  him 
a  closer  student  and  an  abler  practitioner  of 

62 


ii 


i( 


ABRAHAJM  LINCOLN 

the  law,  but  two  such  strong  personahties  could 
not  long  work  side  by  side,  and  in  1843  Lin- 
coln formed  a  partnership  v/ith  William  H. 
Herndon,  a  young  radical,  already  consorting 
with  the  abolitionists,  and  afterwards  Lincoln's 
biographer.  The  partnership  endured  until 
Lincoln's  death.  But  the  struggle  was  hard, 
and  Lincoln  and  his  bride  were  perforce  frugal, 
not  keeping  house,"  as  he  wrote  to  Speed, 
but  boarding  at  the  Globe  Tavern,  which  is 
very  well  kept  by  a  widow  lady  of  the  name  of 
Beck.  Our  room  and  boarding  only  costs  us 
four  dollars  a  week.  ...  I  am  so  poor  and 
make  so  little  headway  in  the  world  that  I  drop 
back  in  a  month  of  idleness  as  much  as  I  gain 
in  a  year's  sov/ing."  In  1841  he  might  have 
had  the  nomination  for  governor,  but,  after 
his  experience  of  the  internal  improvement 
dream,  he  had  foregone  his  ambition  to  become 
the  "DeWitt  Clinton  of  Ilhnois."  He  had  an 
eye,  however,  as  doubtless  his  ambitious  wife 
had,  on  the  political  field,  and  already  was  cast- 
ing glances  toward  Congress.     He  met  op- 

63 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

position,  of  course.  On  Vfashington's  Birth- 
day, 1842,  during  the  Washingtonian  temper- 
ance movement,  in  an  address  on  "Temper- 
ance" he  deplored  the  Pharisaical  attitude  of 
some  church  members  toward  the  drunkard,, 
saying,  "If  we  take  the  habitual  drunkards,  as 
a  class,  their  heads  and  hearts  will  bear  an  ad- 
vantageous comparison  with  those  of  any  other 
class."  The  whole  admirable  address  is  con- 
ceived in  a  tone  of  the  highest  humanitarian- 
ism,  quite  distinct  from  that  of  the  professional 
reformer  of  other  persons, — a  tone  which  Lin- 
coln, of  all  men,  must  have  despised.  He  was 
full  of  a  wise  and  gentle  tolerance  that  sprang 
equally  from  his  knowledge  and  his  love  of 
men.  He  said  about  this  time,  when  "ac- 
cused" of  being  a  "temperance"  man,  "I  am 
temperate  in  this,  to  wit:  I  don't  drink." 
But  so  temperate  an  address  was  certain  to  fall 
short  of  the  demands  of  the  more  intemperate 
of  the  temperance  reformers.  He  was  criti- 
cised, and  because  of  this,  and  because  his  wife, 
as  an  Episcopalian,  a  Todd  and  kin  to  the 

64 


ABRAHAjM  LINCOLN 

Edwardses,  was  an  "aristocrat,"  and  because 
he  had  "once  talked  of  fighting  a  duel,"  he  had 
to  postpone  his  Congressional  ambitions. 
There  were,  besides,  "political  complications." 
He  stood  aside  for  Hardin  and  for  Baker,  and 
it  was  said  that  there  was  an  agreement  among 
them — Hardin,  Baker,  Lincoln,  and  Logan — 
that  "they  should  in  turn  have  the  coveted  hon- 
our." In  1844  he  was  on  the  Whig  electoral 
ticket,  and  not  only  stumped  Illinois  for  Henry 
Clay,  but  went  over  into  Indiana  and  had  the 
satisfaction  of  speaking  at  Gentryville,  where 
he  was  so  moved  by  memories  that  he  ex- 
pressed his  sentiments  in  verse,  which,  if  not 
poetical  in  form,  were,  as  he  himself  pleaded, 
poetic  in  feeling. 

At  last,  in  1846,  he  was  nominated  and 
elected  to  Congress.  His  Democratic  oppo- 
nent was  old  Peter  Cartwright,  the  pioneer 
IMethodist  preacher,  who  did  not  hesitate  to 
use  the  Washington  Birthday  address  against 
Lincoln,  or  to  charge  atheism,  going  back  for 
evidence  to  the  New  Salem  days  and  the  mono- 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

graph  in  the  Tom  Paine  style  Lincoln  was  said 
to  have  written. 

The  charge  of  atheism  was  not  altogether 
lacking  in  foundation,  for,  while  deeply  and  in 
a  poetic  and  mystic  way  profoundly  religious, 
Lincoln  never  united  with  any  church,  and  his 
theological  opinions  were  not  orthodox.  Then 
and  down  to  his  death  he  seems  to  have  been 
unitarian  in  belief,  and  said  that  whenever  any 
church  would  inscribe  over  its  altar,  as  the  sole 
qualification  for  membership,  the  words  of 
Jesus,  "Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with 
all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  might,  and  with 
all  thy  strength,  and  thy  neighbour  as  thy- 
self," he  would  join  that  church.  Surely,  as 
far  as  man  may,  in  a  complicated  civihsation 
which  dares  not  take  Christianity  too  literally, 
he  exemplified  this  religion. 

When,  in  1847,  Lincoln  took  his  seat  in  the 
Thirtieth  Congress,  he  found  there  the  last 
of  the  giants  of  the  old  days, — Webster,  Cal- 
houn, and  Clay,  and  old  John  Quincy  Adams, 
dying  in  his  seat  before  the  session  ended. 

66 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

Douglas  was  there,  too,  to  take  his  new  seat 
in  the  Senate.  Lincoln,  soon  a  favourite  for 
his  stories  and  for  the  quaint  manner  of  which 
he  was  so  unconscious,  was  among  those  in- 
vited to  Webster's  breakfasts,  and  became  the 
friend  of  Joshua  R.  Giddings.  The  Whigs 
were  in  a  majority,  as  a  result  of  popular  dis- 
approval of  President  Polk's  course  in  a  war 
of  which  America  has  always  felt  half-ashamed, 
and,  while  criticising  the  President,  neverthe- 
less made  what  capital  they  could  out  of  the 
brilliant  victories  the  Whig  generals,  Scott  and 
Taylor,  had  achieved,  and  voted  them  supplies. 
With  this  course  Lincoln  was  in  sympathy. 
"By  way  of  getting  the  hang  of  the  House," 
he  wrote  Herndon,  "I  made  a  little  speech, 
.  .  .  and  was  about  as  badly  scared,  and  no 
worse,  as  I  am  when  I  speak  in  court.  .  .  . 
As  you  are  all  so  anxious  for  me  to  distinguish 
myself,  I  have  concluded  to  do  so  before  long." 
This  half-humorous  promise  he  kept  by  intro- 
ducing the  famous  "Spot"  Resolutions,  so 
called  because  after  quoting  the  President's  as- 

67 


ABRAHAJNI  LINCOLN 

sertions  that  Mexico  had  first  "invaded  our 
territory,"  and  *'shed  the  blood  of  our  citizens 
on  our  own  soil,"  they  requested  the  Presi- 
dent in  a  series  of  adroit  questions  to  inform  the 
House  on  what  "spot"  all  this  had  occurred. 
The  searching  interpellation  was  met  by  silence 
in  the  White  House.  On  January  12,  1848, 
Lincoln  called  up  the  resolutions  and  spoke  in 
their  support.  They  were  not  acted  upon,  but 
they  served  to  expose  Polk's  duplicity  and  to 
make  their  author  known. 

That  spring  he  was  writing  home  to  Hern- 
don  to  organise  all  the  "shrewd,  wild  boys 
about  town"  in  "Old  Rough  and  Ready's" 
cause, — although  but  thirty-nine,  he  was  al- 
ready feeling  old, — and,  after  he  had  helped  to 
nominate  Taylor  in  June,  he  delivered  on  the 
floor  of  Congress  a  stump  speech  that  kept  the 
House  roaring  with  its  ridicule  of  the  Demo- 
cratic candidate.  "By  the  way,  Mr.  Speaker, 
did  you  know  I  am  a  military  hero?  Yes,  sir, 
in  the  days  of  the  Black  Hawk  War,  I  fought, 
bled,  and  came  away.  ...  It  is  quite  certain 

68 


ABRAHAJNI  LINCOLN 

I  did  not  break  my  sword,  for  I  had  none  to 
break ;  but  I  bent  my  musket  pretty  badly  on 
one  occasion.  If  Cass  broke  his  sword,  the 
idea  is,  he  broke  it  in  desperation.  I  bent  the 
musket  by  accident.  If  General  Cass  went  in 
advance  of  me  picking  whortleberries,  I  guess 
I  surpassed  him  in  charges  upon  wild  onions. 
If  he  saw  any  live  Indians,  it  was  more  than 
I  did,  but  I  had  a  good  many  bloody  struggles 
w^ith  mosquitoes ;  and,  although  I  never  fainted 
from  loss  of  blood,  I  can  truly  say  I  was  often 
very  hungry." 

He  was  on  the  electoral  ticket  and  stumped 
New  England  and  Illinois  for  Taylor.  The 
New  England  speeches  were  full  of  moral 
earnestness,  and  most  significant  was  the  fact 
that,  after  hearing  Governor  Seward  speak  in 
Boston,  he  said:  "I  reckon  you  are  right. 
We  have  got  to  deal  with  this  slavery  ques- 
tion, and  got  to  give  much  more  attention  to 
it  hereafter  than  we  have  been  doing."  In 
December  he  went  back  to  Washington  for  the 
second  session,  and  stood  consistently  for  the 

69 


ABRAHAJM  LINCOLN 

Wilmot  Proviso,  designed  to  exclude  slavery 
from  territory  acquired  from  Mexico,  and  while 
in  Congress,  as  he  afterwards  said,  voted  for 
the  principle  "about  forty-two  times."  And 
he  introduced,  and  almost  succeeded  in  passing, 
an  act  excluding  slavery  from  the  District  of 
Columbia. 

But,  as  he  had  known  all  along,  his  opposi- 
tion to  the  Mexican  War  had  been  displeasing 
to  his  constituents,  who  would  rather  be  warlike 
than  right.  Besides  introducing  *'the  Spot 
Resolutions,"  he  had  voted  for  Ashmun's 
amendment,  which  declared  that  "the  war  had 
been  unnecessarily  and  unconstitutionally  com- 
menced by  the  President."  But  he  would  not 
"skulk":  he  had  "voted  for  the  truth  rather 
than  for  a  lie."  It  cost  him  his  renomination, 
and,  when  Logan  was  nominated  to  succeed 
him,  Lincoln's  course  lost  the  district  even  to 
him.  He  tried  to  obtain  the  appointment  as 
commissioner  of  the  General  Lands  Office,  but 
failed.  Then  he  was  offered  the  governor- 
ship of  the  new  Territory  of  Oregon,   and 

70 


ABRAHAJVI  LINCOLN 

thought  of  accepting,  but  his  wife  fortunately 
said  "no,"  and  he  went  back  to  Springfield  and 
out  on  the  muddy  roads  of  the  old  Eighth  Cir- 
cuit, a  saddened,  disillusioned,  and  disap- 
pointed man. 

His  figure,  garbed  in  black,  became  familiar 
to  Springfield,  as  he  strode  along,  usually  with 
one  of  his  boys  tugging  at  him,  between  his 
dwelling  in  Eighth  Street  and  his  dingy  law 
office  on  the  Square.  Though  clean  in  di^ess 
and  person  and  with  the  most  orderly  of  minds, 
he  was  not  orderly  in  his  affairs.  He  carried 
most  of  his  legal  documents  in  his  high  hat; 
and  there  is  a  direction,  written  in  his  own 
hand,  on  a  bundle  of  papers,  "When  you  can't 
find  it  anywhere  else,  look  into  this."  He  kept 
poor  accounts,  forgot  to  enter  charges  in  his 
books,  but,  when  money  was  paid  in,  he  divided 
it,  put  half  of  it  in  his  pocket,  and  left  the 
other  labelled  "Herndon's  half."  He  could 
not  exact  retainers  or  charge  large  fees,  and  he 
needed  money  in  those  days.  His  father  had 
moved  three  times,  and  when  he  died,  in  1851, 

71 


ABRAHAJVI  LINCOLN 

there  was  a  mortgage  on  the  farm  in  Coles 
County  to  be  raised,  his  mother  to  help,  and  a 
shiftless  stepbrother,  John  Johnston,  to  ex- 
postulate with  in  letters  deeply  interesting. 
Besides,  the  "national  debt"  still  hung  over 
him,  though  about  this  time  he  succeeded  in 
paying  the  last  of  it.  But  he  Vv^as  working 
hard,  and  rapidly  developing  into  one  of  the 
best  lawyers  in  Illinois. 

What  joy  there  was  for  him  in  a  life  that 
carries  the  impression  of  having  been  destined 
for  great  sacrifice  came  to  him  on  the  old 
Eighth  Judicial  Circuit.  Here,  in  an  uncom- 
monly active  practice,  he  encountered  such  men 
as  Leonard  Swett,  Judge  Logan,  Edward  D. 
Baker,  O.  H.  Browning,  Richard  J.  Oglesby, 
and  Jolm  ]M.  Palmer.  Twice  a  year,  spring 
and  fall,  the  lawvxrs  v/ent  out  on  the  circuit  in 
the  train  of  Judge  David  Davis,  massive  and 
able.  Lincoln  was  Davis's  favourite.  When 
he  arrived  at  a  tavern,  Davis  would  look  about 
and  ask,  "T^Tiere's  Lincoln?"  and  his  great 
form  shook  with  delight  over  Lincoln's  droller- 

72 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

ies.  The  stories  now  and  then  disturbed  the 
dignity  of  the  court,  for,  if  Lincoln  were  not 
engaged  in  the  case  on  trial,  he  would  have  a 
knot  of  men  about  him  in  the  court-room. 
More  than  once  Davis  was  forced  to  say: 
"Mr.  Lincoln,  I  can't  stand  this.  There  is  no 
use  trying  to  carry  on  two  courts :  I  must  ad- 
journ mine,  or  you  yours."  But  a  few  min- 
utes later  he  would  beckon  one  of  the  group  to 
the  bench,  and  ask,  *'What  was  that  story  Lin- 
coln was  telling?" 

The  impression,  however,  that  Lincoln  was 
a  mere  story-teller,  a  raconteur^  a  lawyer  who 
practised  by  his  wits,  is  inaccurate.  He  was 
fundamentally  serious  and  a  man  of  dignity: 
he  was  not  given  to  uncouth  familiarities. 
Men  referred  to  him  affectionately  as  "Hon- 
est Abe"  or  "Old  Abe,"  but  they  addressed 
him  always  as  "Mr.  Lincoln."  His  humour, 
never  peccant,  was  close  to  his  brooding  mel- 
ancholy, and  saved  every  situation  in  a  life  he 
knew  so  profoundly  as  to  feel  its  tragedy  and 
its  tears.     It  was  not  for  his  stories  that  men 

73 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

loved  him :  it  was  for  his  kindliness,  his  simplic- 
ity, his  utter  lack  of  self-consciousness.  Of 
course  there  was  the  mysterious  influence  of  his 
personality,  and  the  fascination  of  a  nature 
that  seemed  complex  only  because,  in  the  midst 
of  many  complexities,  it  was,  after  all,  so  sim- 
ple. All  his  life  long  he  strove  to  make  things 
clear,  and  to  men,  to  juries,  to  statesmen,  dip- 
lomats, and  whole  peoples  he  was  ever  explain- 
ing, and  he  told  his  stories  to  help  this  purpose. 
Thus  he  di^ew  interested  groups  about  him,  on 
the  public  square,  in  the  court-room,  in  the 
tavern. 

These  taverns  were  dreadful  places  by  all 
accounts,  with  cooking  bad  enough  to  make 
any  man  melancholy,  but  Lincoln  was  the  last 
to  complain  of  the  inconveniences.  He  liked 
the  life,  with  its  roving,  careless  freedom  and 
its  comradeship.  They  all  sat  at  table  to- 
gether,— lawyers,  jurymen,  litigants,  witnesses, 
even  prisoners,  if  they  had  friends  who  could 
get  them  out  on  bail;  and  Lincoln  liked  the 
foot  of  the  table  as  well  as  the  head,  where  the 

74 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

huge  Davis  presided.  He  would  sleep  two  in 
a  bed  or  eight  in  a  room,  and  in  the  evenings 
he  would  sit  with  them  all  in  a  Bohemian  socia- 
bility, though  now  and  then,  when  his  melan- 
choly was  on  him,  he  would  slip  away,  perhaps 
to  pore  over  problems  in  Euclid  in  order  to 
learn  the  meaning  of  * 'demonstrate,"  or  to 
study  German,  or  to  attend  some  little  magic 
lantern  show  given  for  the  children, — pathetic 
evidence  of  his  restricted  opportunities,  for  it 
was  his  destiny  to  be  fond  of  the  theatre. 

But  he  was  not  always  mild,  he  was  not  al- 
ways funny.  He  could  be  terrible  when 
aroused,  and  nothing  so  aroused  him  as  un- 
truth or  injustice.  He  was  dreadful  in  cross- 
examination,  as  many  of  the  stories  show,  and 
he  had  a  subtle,  almost  occult  power  over  wit- 
nesses and  over  juries.  "If  I  can  clean  this 
case  of  technicahties,"  he  once  remarked  to 
Herndon,  "and  get  it  properly  swung  to  the 
jury,  I'll  win  it."  And,  surely,  no  one  could 
swing  cases  to  juries  better  than  he.  He  had, 
in  the  first  place,  an  extraordinarily  sympa- 

75 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

thetic  and  profound  knowledge  of  human  na- 
ture. Part  of  this  was  intuitive,  some  inex- 
phcable  element  of  the  almost  feminine  gentle- 
ness that  was  in  him.  Part  of  it  came  from  his 
wide  experience  with  almost  primitive  men. 
Then  there  was  the  commanding  dignity  of  his 
presence:  men  might  describe  him  as  homely, 
but  when  stirred,  when  in  the  heat  and  passion 
of  forensic  effort,  his  features  lighted  up  with 
a  strange  beauty.  And  there  was  his  drudg- 
ing, laborious  determination  to  make  things 
clear;  and,  above  all,  there  was  his  honesty  of 
statement,  of  motive,  of  method,  so  that  courts 
and  juries  believed  what  he  said,  and  this,  with 
that  baffling  power  of  the  great  personality, 
made  him  the  ideal  jury  lawyer.  He  knew 
that  a  cause  well  stated  is  half  won,  and  he  had 
mastered  the  art  of  putting  a  question  so  that 
it  answered  itself.  He  was  no  quibbler,  he  was 
impatient  of  technicalities,  and  he  was  ready  to 
make  concessions  all  the  time,  quietly  sitting 
there  in  the  barren  court-room,  admitting  this 
or  that,  "reckoning  he  must  be  wrong,"  that 

76 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

"that  ought  to  be  conceded,"  or  that  "that's 
about  right,"  until,  as  Leonard  Swett  said, 
"about  the  time  he  had  practised  through  three- 
quarters  of  the  case  in  this  way,  his  adversary 
would  wake  up  to  find  himself  beaten." 

He  was  a  poor  lawyer  when  he  was  on  the 
wrong  side  of  a  case,  and  many  times  refused, 
and  sometimes  abandoned,  causes  in  which  he 
could  not  believe.  Once,  indeed,  discovering 
in  the  very  midst  of  a  trial  that  his  client  had 
acted  fraudulently,  he  stalked  out  of  the  court- 
room in  disgust,  and,  when  sent  for  by  the 
judge,  returned  the  answer  that  he  "had  gone 
out  to  wash  his  hands."  He  never  was  a  good 
prosecutor:  he  had  too  much  human  sympathy; 
and  he  was  no  better  business  man  then  than 
in  New  Salem  days.  His  charges  were  so 
small  that  Herndon  and  the  other  lawyers,  and 
even  Davis,  who  was  avaricious,  expostulated 
with  him.  His  income  was  little  more  than 
two  or  three  thousand  a  year.  His  name  ap- 
pears in  the  Illinois  Reports  in  one  hundred 
and  seventy-three   cases, — a   record   entitling 

77 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

him  to  first  rank  among  the  lawyers  of  his 
State.  He  was  engaged  in  causes  of  the  first 
importance,  like  that  of  the  Illinois  Central 
Railroad  Company  v.  The  County  of  McLean, 
in  which  for  the  railroad  he  successfully  resisted 
an  attempt  to  tax  land  ceded  to  the  railroad  by 
the  State, — and  had  to  sue  to  recover  his  modest 
fee  of  $5,000, — the  Rock  Island  bridge  case, 
and  the  McCormick  reaper  patent  litigation. 
In  this  case  he  was  of  counsel  with  Edwin  M. 
Stanton,  who,  in  the  federal  court  at  Cincin- 
nati, treated  him  contemptuously,  referring 
to  him  as  "that  giraffe,"  and  prevented  him 
from  delivering  the  argument  he  had  so  solici- 
tously prepared.  To  a  man  of  Lincoln's  sen- 
sitiveness such  an  experience  was  intensely 
painful,  and  it  shows  how  great  he  was  that, 
despite  the  protestations  of  friends  who  re- 
called it  all  to  him,  and  more  besides,  he  ap- 
pointed Stanton  his  War  Secretary.  In  this 
case  he  was  paid  $2,000,  and  this  and  the  fee 
in  the  Illinois  Central  case  were  the  largest  he 
ever  received. 

78 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

Two  of  his  great  murder  cases  must  always 
be  recalled  when  his  legal  career  is  mentioned. 
In  May,  1858,  he  defended  Wilham,  or  ''Duff," 
the  son  of  his  old  foe  and  friend,  Jack  Arm- 
strong. This  youth,  wild  as  the  wildest  of  the 
Clary's  Grove  'Boys  had  ever  been,  was  charged 
with  murder,  and  on  the  trial  at  Beardstown 
a  witness  told  how,  by  moonlight,  he  had  seen 
the  blow  struck.  It  was  a  pretty  desperate 
case  for  William,  and  for  Hannah,  his  mother, 
who  had  "foxed"  the  buckskins  on  Lincoln's 
trousers;  but  Lincoln,  remembering  old  bene- 
fits, reassured  her,  and,  subjecting  the  pros- 
ecuting witness  to  one  of  his  dreadful  cross- 
examinations,  confronted  him  with  the  almanac 
of  the  year  of  the  murder,  and  by  it  showed 
that,  at  the  hour  at  which  the  witness  claimed 
to  have  seen  Armstrong  strike  the  blow,  the 
moon,  only  in  its  first  quarter,  had  already  set. 
The  boy  was  acquitted,  and  Lincoln  would 
have  no  fee  but  old  Hannah's  tears  and  grati- 
tude. The  next  year  he  appeared  on  behalf 
of  "Peachy"  Harrison,  charged  with  the  mur- 

79 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

der  of  Greek  Crafton,  and  it  must  have  been  a 
dramatic  moment  when  the  aged  Peter  Cart- 
wright  took  the  witness-stand  and  turned  to 
face  Lincoln,  against  whom  he  had  waged  a 
campaign  for  Congress  so  long  before.  Cart- 
wright  was  Harrison's  grandfather,  and  the 
white  head  of  the  old  pioneer  Methodist 
preacher  drooped  to  his  breast  as  Lincoln  had 
him  tell  how,  as  he  lay  dying,  Greek  Crafton 
had  said,  *'I  want  you  to  say  to  my  slayer  that 
I  forgive  him."  After  such  a  scene  and  with 
such  a  dying  declaration  to  build  upon,  Lin- 
coln was  sure  to  make  a  speech  that  would  touch 
the  hearts  of  the  jury  with  the  forgiveness  and 
the  pity  he  himself  felt  for  all  souls  in  trouble ; 
and  Harrison  was  acquitted.  This  was  the 
last  scene  of  that  experience  at  the  bar  which 
made  him  the  great  lawyer  he  was,  prej)ared 
him  for  the  mighty  legal  argument  with  Doug- 
las, and  fitted  him  to  try  and  to  win  the  great 
cause  of  humanity  before  the  people  and  the 
world. 


80 


Ill 

Lincoln  was  losing  interest  in  politics, 
when,  in  May,  1854,  the  abrogation  of  the  Mis- 
souri Compromise  aroused  him.  He  was  out 
on  the  circuit  when  the  news  of  the  Kansas- 
Nebraska  bill  came.  All  evening  at  the  tavern 
he  denounced  it,  and  at  dawn,  when  his  room- 
mate, Judge  Dickey,  awoke,  there  he  was,  sit- 
ting on  his  bed.  "I  tell  you,  Dickey,"  Lincoln 
exclaimed,  "this  nation  cannot  exist  half -slave 
and  half- free!"  From  that  hour  he  was  more 
serious,  more  solitary,  more  studious  than  ever 
before. 

Douglas,  whose  new  leadership  had  done 
this,  came  home  in  the  fall  to  face  an  angiy 
constituency.  In  Chicago  he  was  hissed  and 
hooted,  but  he  set  to  work  to  win  back  his  Il- 
linois. He  spoke  in  Springfield,  and  Lincoln 
replied  a  few  days  later  in  a  speech  that  aston- 

81 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

ished  even  those  who  knew  him  best  and  loved 
him  most.  The  aboHtionists  were  so  dehghted 
that  Owen  Love  joy,  whose  father  had  met 
death  in  the  cause  at  Alton,  immediately  ar- 
ranged a  meeting  of  the  "friends  of  liberty,"  in- 
tending to  invite  Lincoln  to  speak.  Herndon 
was  in  their  counsels,  and,  though  radical  as 
any  of  them,  was  more  of  a  politician.  He 
knew  the  danger  to  Lincoln  of  openly  consort- 
ing just  then  with  the  abolitionists,  and  hur- 
riedly sent  his  law  partner  word  to  "take  Bob 
and  drive  somewhere  into  the  country,  and  stay 
till  this  thing  is  over."  Lincoln,  already 
dreaming  of  the  Senate,  and  wary,  discreet, 
politic,  took  Bob  in  his  buggy,  and  drove  to 
Tazewell  County,  where  Davis  was  holding 
court.  Thus  he  escaped  the  dilemma.  The 
next  day  Douglas  spoke  again,  and  Lincoln  re- 
phed  at  Peoria.  "Judge  Douglas,"  he  said, 
"frequently,  with  bitter  irony  and  sarcasm, 
paraphrases  our  argument  by  saying,  *The 
white  people  of  Nebraska  are  good  enough  to 
govern   themselves,   but   they   are   not   good 

82 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

enough  to  govern  a  few  miserable  negroes.' 
Well,  I  doubt  not  that  the  good  people  of 
Nebraska  are,  and  will  continue  to  be,  as  good 
as  the  average  of  people  elsewhere.  I  do  not 
say  to  the  contrary.  What  I  do  say  is,  that 
no  man  is  good  enough  to  govern  another  man 
without  that  other's  consent." 

These  speeches  were  really  the  first  of  the 
great  debate.  They  showed  anti-Nebraska 
men  and  abolitionists  that  they  had  a  champion 
on  fire  with  the  passion  of  a  great  cause,  and 
the  Little  Giant  so  recognised  their  power  that 
he  proposed  a  truce,  which  Lincoln  good- 
naturedly  accepted.  It  was  agreed  that 
neither  should  speak  again  during  the  cam- 
paign, and  it  was  like  Douglas,  on  his  way 
home,  to  stop  in  Princeton  and  deliver  a  long 
address. 

That  fall,  1854,  against  his  will,  Lincoln  was 
nominated  and  elected  to  the  legislature,  but, 
when  he  saw  that  many  Democrats  were  in 
revolt,  he  resigned,  "I  have  really  got  it  into 
my  head  to  try  to  be  a  United  States  senator," 

83 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

he  wrote  to  a  friend;  *'and  if  I  could  have  your 
support  my  chances  would  be  reasonably  good, 
I  should  like  to  be  remembered  affectionately 
by  you,  and  also  to  have  you  make  a  mark  for 
me  with  the  anti-Nebraska  members  down 
your  way."  He  had  forty-five  votes  on  the 
first  ballot,  February  8,  1855,  Shields,  the 
Democrat,  his  old  duelling  antagonist,  forty- 
one,  Trumbull,  anti-Nebraska  Democrat,  five, 
with  a  few  scattering.  But  the  anti-Nebraska 
Democrats,  holding  the  balance  of  power, 
would  not  go  to  Lincoln,  and  he  generously 
urged  his  following  to  vote  for  Trumbull,  which 
they  did,  and  Trumbull  was  elected. 

Though  disappointed,  Lincoln  knew  that  the 
struggle  was  only  begun.  The  nation  was 
aroused.  Within  a  year  the  Republican  party 
had  suddenly  sprung  into  being,  there  was 
bloodshed  in  Kansas,  Sumner  had  been  as- 
saulted in  the  Senate,  and  Lincoln  watched  the 
growing  flame  with  interest  and  concern. 
When  the  first  Republican  State  Convention 
met  in  Bloomington  on  May  29,  1856,  there 

84 


ABRAHAJVI  LINCOLN 

were  cries  all  over  the  hall  for  "Lincoln!  Lin- 
coln!" He  went  forward,  and  launched  into  a 
speech  that  so  charmed  and  electrified  his  audi- 
ence that  even  the  reporters  sat  spell-bound, 
forgetting  to  take  it  down.  The  burden  of 
his  utterance  was,  "Kansas  shall  be  free!"  and 
he  concluded  in  a  passage  of  highest  spirit: 
**We  will  say  to  the  Southern  disunionists,  we 
won't  go  out  of  the  Union,  and  you 
SHAN'T !" 

He  was  done,  at  last,  with  the  Whigs,  and 
committed  to  the  Republicans.  But  when  he 
went  back  to  Springfield,  and  he  and  Herndon 
had  called  a  "mass"  meeting,  only  one  other  be- 
sides himself  and  Herndon  was  present.  Lin- 
coln spoke,  nevertheless,  dryly  remarking  that 
the  meeting  was  larger  than  he  knew  it  would 
be,  for,  while  he  had  been  sure  that  he  and 
Herndon  would  attend,  he  had  not  been  sure 
any.  one  else  would.  And  then  he  concluded : 
"While  all  seems  dead,  the  age  itself  is  not. 
It  liveth  as  surely  as  our  Maker  liveth.  Un- 
der all  this  seeming  want  of  life  and  motion,  the 

85 


ABRAHA3I  LIXCOLX 

world  does  move,  nevertheless.  Be  hopeful, 
and  now  let  us  adjourn  and  appeal  to  the 
people." 

Three  weeks  afterwards,  in  the  EepubHcan 
National  Convention  at  Philadelpliia,  he  re- 
ceived 110  votes  for  Vice-President,  and, 
though  he  observed  that  *'it  must  have  been  the 
great  Lincoln  of  Massachusetts"  they  were  vot- 
ing for,  he  was  already  known  to  the  nation, 
and  entered  into  the  campaign  as  an  elector  for 
Fremont  with  such  earnestness  that,  even 
though  they  lost  in  that  campaign,  liis  enthusi- 
astic friends  at  home  said  he  was  ''alreadv  on 
the  track  for  the  presidency." 

With  the  contest  of  1858  approaching,  he 
was  confident  of  success.  The  pro-slavery 
leaders  of  Kansas,  by  an  unfair  vote,  forced 
the  adoption  of  the  Lecompton  Constitution 
allowing  slavery  in  that  State,  but,  when  Presi- 
dent Buchanan  urged  Congress  to  admit  Kan- 
sas with  this  constitution,  Douglas  broke  with 
the  administration,  opposed  the  Lecompton 
Constitution,  and  voted  against  the  admission 

86 


AERAHAAI  LIXCOLX 

of  Kansas.  If  this  angered  Buchanan  and  the 
South,  it  dehghted  the  Repubhcans.  Many  of 
them  thought  they  saw  a  chance  to  gain  a  bril- 
liant and  notable  convert ;  and  Horace  Greeley, 
editor  of  the  Xew  York  Tribune ^  honest,  well- 
meaning,  blundering,  urged  the  Repubhcans 
of  Illinois  to  put  up  no  candidate  against 
Douglas. 

But  Lincoln  knew  men  and  he  knew  poUtics 
better  than  Greeley,  and,  above  all,  he  knew 
Douglas.  The  Illinois  Repubhcans  knew 
Douglas,  too,  and  when  they  met  at  Spring- 
field, June  16,  1858,  they  resolved  that  "Hon. 
Abraham  Lincoln  is  our  first  and  onlv  choice 
for  L'nited  States  Senator."  Lincoln  had 
been  expecting  the  nomination,  and  he  was 
ready.  For  weeks  he  had  been  pondering  his 
speech  of  acceptance,  jotting  it  down  bit  by  bit, 
as  it  came  to  him  in  moments  of  inspiration,  on 
scraps  of  paper,  and,  after  his  curious  custom, 
bestowing  them  in  his  hat.  At  last  he  wrote 
it  out  and  read  it  to  a  few  friends,  all  of  whom, 
except  the  radical  Herndon,  opposed  his  de- 

87 


ABRAHAJVI  LINCOLN 

livering  it  in  that  form.  But  he  was  wiser 
than  they,  and  remarking  that,  though  he  might 
have  "to  go  down  with  it,"  he  would  "rather 
be  defeated  with  that  .  .  .  speech  than  to  be 
victorious  without  it,"  held  to  his  own  purpose 
and  his  own  counsel.  He  dehvered  the  speech 
in  the  Hall  of  the  House  of  Representatives  in 
Springfield  the  day  after  his  nomination,  and 
he  stated  the  issue  clearly,  to  the  consterna- 
tion of  friends  and  the  delight  of  enemies,  in 
his  exordium: — 

"Mr.  President  and  Gentlemen  of  the  Con- 
vention : — If  we  could  first  know  where  we  are 
and  whither  we  are  tending,  we  could  better 
judge  what  to  do  and  how  to  do  it.  We  are 
now  far  into  the  fifth  year  since  a  policy  was 
initiated  with  the  avowed  object  and  confident 
purpose  of  putting  an  end  to  slavery  agitation. 
Under  the  operation  of  that  policy  that  agita- 
tion has  not  only  not  ceased,  but  has  constantly 
augmented.  In  my  opinion,  it  will  not  cease 
until  a  crisis  shall  have  been  reached  and  passed. 
'A  house  divided  against  itself  cannot  stand.' 

88 


ABRAHAJVI  LINCOLN 

I  believe  this  government  cannot  endure,  per- 
manently half -slave  and  half-free.  I  do  not 
expect  the  Union  to  be  dissolved — I  do  not 
expect  the  house  to  fall — but  I  do  expect  it  will 
cease  to  be  divided.  It  will  become  all  one 
thing  or  all  the  other.  Either  the  opponents 
of  slavery  will  arrest  the  further  spread  of  it, 
and  place  it  where  the  public  mind  shall  rest 
in  the  belief  that  it  is  in  the  course  of  ultimate 
extinction;  or  its  advocates  will  push  it  for- 
ward till  it  shall  become  alike  lawful  in  all  the 
States,  old  as  well  as  new,  North  as  well  as 
South." 

The  speech,  which  really  went  no  further 
than  to  advocate  a  return  to  the  principle  of 
the  old  Missouri  Compromise,  was  regarded  as 
radical,  even  revolutionary.  Douglas  replied 
to  it  on  July  9  at  Chicago,  and  found  it  full  of 
difficulties,  so  compact  was  it  of  accurate  his- 
tory and  logical  argument,  but  he  could  per- 
vert some  of  Lincoln's  sayings  into  "abolition- 
ism," and  he  could  express  indignation  at  Lin- 
coln's disrespect  for  courts  and  lack  of  "rev- 

89 


ABRAHAJM  LINCOLN 

erence  for  the  law,"  implied  in  his  strictures  on 
the  Dred  Scott  decision. 

These  speeches,  in  the  picturesque  phrase  of 
Illinois  politicians,  *'set  the  prairies  on  fire." 
After  Lincoln  had  rejoined  at  Chicago  and, 
a  week  later,  Douglas  had  spoken  at  Bloom- 
ington  and  at  Springfield,  Lincoln  replying  on 
the  evening  of  each  day,  it  was  evident  that 
there  was  to  be  a  battle  of  the  giants.  On 
July  24  Lincoln  sent  Douglas  a  challenge  to 
meet  him  in  a  series  of  joint  debates.  If  Lin- 
coln knew  Douglas,  Douglas  knew  Lincoln. 
"I  shall  have  my  hands  full,"  he  said  to  his 
friends.  "He  is  the  strong  man  of  his  party, 
— full  of  wit,  facts,  dates, — and  the  best  stump 
speaker,  with  his  droll  ways  and  dry  jokes,  in 
the  West.  He  is  as  honest  as  he  is  shrewd, 
and,  if  I  beat  him,  my  victory  will  be  hardly 
won."  He  was  loath  to  accept.  He  had  ex- 
pected to  come  home  to  an  easy,  triumphant 
campaign,  in  the  warmth  of  approval  for  his 
really  gallant  stand  against  Buchanan:  he  did 
not  wish,  as  he  saw  Lincoln  had  adroitly  forced 

90 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

him  to  do,  to  discuss  his  own  record, — the  Dred 
Scott  decision,  the  Kansas-Nebraska  bill,  and 
the  moral  issue  of  slavery;  and  it  was  only 
human  in  him  to  be  disappointed  when  he  found 
himself  confronted  by  such  a  task  as  Lincoln 
set  for  him.  But  the  advantage  was  with  him : 
he  had  the  prestige  of  great  success ;  the  power 
of  money,  which  always  supports  the  conserva- 
tive and  aristocratic  side,  was  with  him ;  and  he 
had  proved  himself  the  equal  in  debate  of  Sew- 
ard, Chase,  and  Sumner.  Then,  too,  he  was 
rather  unscrupulous  in  the  use  of  his  wonder- 
ful arts.  No  one  realised  more  than  Lincoln 
the  apparent  disparity.  "With  me,"  he  said, 
with  that  sad  expression  in  his  face,  *'the  race 
of  ambition  has  been  a  failure — a  flat  failure. 
With  him  it  has  been  one  of  splendid  success." 
Besides,  he  was  slow  in  his  mental  processes: 
he  used  to  talk  to  Herndon  of  "the  long,  la- 
boured movements"  of  his  mind.  But  Doug- 
las accepted,  and  seven  debates  were  set, — at 
Ottawa,  August  21;  Freeport,  August  27; 
Jonesboro',   September  15;  Charleston,  Sep- 

91 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

tember   18;   Galesburg,   October   7;   Quincy, 
October  13;  and  Alton,  October  15. 

In  lofty  spirit,  Lincoln  entered  these  de- 
bates, and  the  high  course  he  took  he  held  unto 
the  end.  Seeming  to  realise  that  he  was  the 
champion  of  the  American  ideal,  he  would 
stoop  no  lower,  and  the  tone  he  adopted  was 
kind,  impersonal,  and  fair.  It  was  a  new  thing 
in  those  days  to  eliminate  bitter  personalities 
from  political  discussion,  but  he  did  it,  though 
he  did  not  eliminate  his  humour  and  his  droller- 
ies. *' Think  nothing  of  me,"  he  said,  conclud- 
ing an  eloquent  speech  at  Beardstown  on 
August  12,  the  week  before  the  formal  debate 
began,  "take  no  thought  for  the  political  fate 
of  any  man  whomsoever,  but  come  back  to  the 
truths  that  are  in  the  Declaration  of  Independ- 
ence. You  may  do  anything  with  me  you 
choose,  if  you  wiU  but  heed  these  sacred  princi- 
ples. .  .  .  While  pretending  no  indifference  to 
earthly  honours,  I  do  claim  to  be  actuated  in 
this  contest  by  something  higher  than  an  anxi- 
ety for  office.     I  charge  you  to  drop  every 

92 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

petty  and  insignificant  thought  for  any  man's 
success.  It  is  nothing;  I  am  nothing;  Judge 
Douglas  is  nothing.  But  do  not  destroy  that 
immortal  emblem  of  humanity — the  Declara- 
tion of  American  Independence." 

Douglas  began  the  debate  with  condescen- 
sion and  affected  tolerance.  He  travelled  in 
state,  accompanied  by  his  beautiful  wife,  on 
special  trains  which  the  Illinois  Central  Rail- 
road provided.  Everywhere  he  was  received 
with  ceremony.  Salutes  were  fired,  he  was 
escorted  royally  to  hotel  and  public  square, 
where,  in  open  air,  the  debates  were  held.  The 
radicals  then,  as  ever,  had  little  money  to  ex- 
pend, and  could  not  contrive  such  magnificent 
receptions  for  their  long,  lank  champion;  and, 
if  they  could,  he  would  not  have  liked  them. 
Even  when  they  did  appear  with  banners  and 
devices,  and  with  floats  in  which  girls  in  white 
rode  in  allegorical  figures,  he  was  embarrassed 
and  distressed.  He  detested  "fizzlegigs  and 
fireworks,"  and,  when  at  Ottawa  his  supporters 
grew  so  enthusiastic  that  they  bore  him  from 

93 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

the  platform  on  their  shoulders,  he  cried  in  dis- 
may, "Don't,  boys;  let  me  down;  come  now, 
don't." 

The  crowds  were  enormous.  There  were 
fakirs  vending  ague  cures,  painkillers,  water- 
melons and  lemonade;  jugglers  and  beggars; 
and  bands  from  everywhere  crashing  out  pa- 
triotic tunes.  Hotels,  boarding-houses,  and 
livery  stables  were  overflowing.  At  Ottawa 
thousands  encamped  along  the  bluff  and  on  the 
bottom  lands,  and  that  night  "the  camp  fires, 
spread  up  and  down  the  valley  for  a  mile,  made 
it  look  as  if  an  army  were  gathered  about  us." 
At  Charleston  a  great  delegation  of  men, 
women,  and  children  in  carriages,  buggies, 
wagons,  on  foot  and  horseback,  came  from  In- 
diana in  a  long  caravan  that  wound  over  the 
prairie  for  miles,  sending  up  a  great  cloud  of 
dust. 

At  Freeport  Douglas  misrepresented  the  in- 
cident at  Ottawa,  and  taunted  Lincoln  with 
the  charge  that  he  was  "so  frightened  by  the 
questions  put  to  him  that  he  could  not  walk." 

94 


ABKAHAM  LINCOLN 

But  Lincoln  bore  this  with  his  inexhaustible 
good  humour,  though  it  must  have  been  mad- 
dening to  have  the  adroit  Douglas  twist  and 
turn  his  every  utterance  and  lead  him  off  con- 
stantly into  irrelevancies  and  side  issues.  But 
these  methods  soon  reacted.  Almost  in  the 
beginning  Douglas,  in  his  efforts  to  fasten  upon 
Lincoln  the  odium  of  abolitionism,  charged  him 
with  having  been  a  subscriber  in  1856  to  an 
abolition  platform.  The  paper  he  read  was 
soon  proved  to  be  a  forgery.  "The  Little 
Dodger  was  cornered  and  caught,"  as  the  news- 
papers said ;  and  even  Greeley  came  out  against 
him,  and  wrote  Herndon  that  Douglas  was 
'like  the  man's  boy  who,  he  said,  didn't  weigh 
so  much  as  he  expected,  and  he  always  knew  he 
wouldn't."  All  this  served  Lincoln's  purpose 
well,  and  thereafter,  whenever  he  had  to  quote  a 
document,  he  paused  long  enough  to  explain 
with  elaborate  sarcasm  that,  "unless  there  was 
some  mistake  on  the  part  of  those  with  whom 
the  document  originated  and  which  he  had  been 
unable  to  detect,"  it  was  authentic. 

95 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

He  was  able  with  more  deadly  effect  to 
counter  on  those  questions  which  Douglas 
charged  had  so  frightened  Lincoln  that  he  had 
to  be  borne  from  the  platform.  For  in  the 
second  debate  at  Freeport  he  put  four  ques- 
tions to  Douglas,  and  in  the  third  at  Jonesboro' 
three  others,  on  which,  as  events  proved,  the 
whole  debate,  and  indeed,  one  might  almost 
say,  the  fate  of  the  nation  itself,  turned.  Here 
was  the  lawyer  again,  the  wily  cross-examiner, 
the  profound  jurist,  the  clear-eyed  statesman, 
who  could  look  further  into  the  future  than  any 
of  them;  for,  as  with  the  "house  divided" 
speech,  his  friends  urged  him  not  to  put  the 
questions,  especially  the  second,  saying  it  would 
cost  him  the  senatorship.  But  Lincoln  was 
willing  to  risk  that.  "I  am  after  larger  game," 
he  said:  "the  battle  of  1860  is  worth  a  hundred 
of  this." 

The  second  question  was  this:  "Can  the 
people  of  a  United  States  territory  in  any  law- 
ful way,  against  the  wish  of  any  citizen  of  the 
United  States,  exclude  slavery  from  its  limits 

96 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

prior  to  the  formation  of  a  state  constitution?" 
Lincoln  believed  that  if  Douglas,  in  applying 
his  doctrine  of  popular  sovereignty,  should  an- 
swer "no,"  he  would  lose  Illinois  and  the  sen- 
atorship ;  if  he  answered  ''yes,"  he  would  alien- 
ate the  South  and  lose  the  Presidency.  And 
he  was  right.  Douglas,  in  a  remarkably  adroit 
reply,  answered  "y^^."  His  delighted  follow- 
ers celebrated  the  manner  in  which  he  had  es- 
caped "Lincoln's  trap,"  and  claimed  the  vic- 
tory already  won.  Eut,  when  the  news  reached 
the  South,  protests  were  heard,  and,  as  there 
the  "Freeport  doctrine"  became  known,  so  in- 
evitably Douglas's  chances  for  1860  waned. 
At  Alton,  in  the  last  of  the  great  engage- 
ments, when  Douglas  proclaimed  himself  the 
living  representative  of  Henry  Clay  and  of  the 
true  Whig  policy,  Lincoln  replied  that  there 
was  but  one  issue  between  them, — "Is  slavery 
right  or  wrong?"  And  he  closed  in  the  same 
high  spirit  in  which  he  had  begun: — 

"It  is  the  eternal  struggle  between  these  two 
principles — right  and  wrong — throughout  the 

97 


ABRAHAIM  LINCOLN 

world.  They  are  the  two  principles  that  have 
stood  face  to  face  from  the  beginning  of  time, 
and  will  ever  continue  to  struggle.  The  one  is 
the  common  right  of  humanity,  and  the  other 
the  divine  right  of  kings.  .  .  .  Whenever  the 
issue  can  be  distinctly  made  and  all  extraneous 
matter  thrown  out,  so  that  men  can  fairly  see 
the  real  differences  between  the  parties,  this 
controversy  will  soon  be  settled,  and  it  will  be 
done  peaceably,  too." 

The  fatigue  of  any  campaign  is  great,  even 
in  these  days  of  luxury  and  convenience  in 
travel :  in  those  it  would  seem  to  have  been  be- 
yond human  endurance.  The  protagonists 
spoke  nearly  every  day  in  the  intervals  between 
debates,  and  Lincoln,  to  whom  the  conserva- 
tives with  their  means  were  no  more  kind  in 
that  day  than  they  would  be  in  this,  had  to  find 
rest  when  he  could,  often  on  the  miserable  rail- 
way coaches  of  those  days,  wrapped  in  his 
shawl.  There  were,  besides,  in  this  furious 
campaign  many  others  speaking, — Chase,  the 
red  abolitionist  of  Ohio,  Senator  Trumbull, 

98 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

Owen  Love  joy,  Oglesby,  and  Palmer.  The 
election  was  on  November  2,  and  in  the  popular 
vote  Lincoln  had  a  pku^ality,  the  Republicans 
polling  126,084,  the  Douglas-Democrats  121,- 
940,  and  the  Buchanan  Democrats  5,091  votes. 
But,  owing  to  the  legislative  apportionment, 
the  Democrats  carried  a  majority  of  the  As- 
sembly districts,  and  there  in  January  Douglas 
was  re-elected  senator,  having  54  to  Lincoln's 
46  votes. 

Of  course,  Lincoln  was  disappointed,  but 
still  he  could  joke.  He  felt  "like  the  boy  that 
stumped  his  toe — it  hurt  too  bad  to  laugh,  and 
he  was  too  big  to  cry."  But  he  was  glad  he 
made  the  race.  "It  gave  me  a  hearing  on  the 
great  and  durable  question  of  the  age  which  I 
would  have  had  in  no  other  way;  and  though 
I  now  sink  out  of  view  and  shall  be  forgotten, 
I  believe  I  have  made  some  marks  which  will 
tell  for  the  cause  of  civil  liberty  long  after 
I  am  gone."  But  he  was  not  to  sink  out  of 
view.  He  received  congratulations  from  all 
parts  of  the  nation,  and  invitations  to  speak. 

99 


ABRAHAJM  LINCOLN 

Most  of  the  invitations  he  dechned.  His  law 
practice  had  been  neglected;  the  canvass  had 
cost  more  money  than  he  could  afford;  he  was 
"absolutely  without  money  even  for  household 
expenses."  To  recoup  his  losses,  he  prepared 
a  lecture  on  "Discoveries,  Inventions,  and  Im- 
provements" ;  but  soon  reahsing  that  he  was  not 
a  success  outside  the  political  field,  and  seeming 
to  require  a  moral  question  to  bring  out  his 
powers,  he  abandoned  the  lecture  field  almost 
immediately.  Eut,  when  Douglas  appeared 
in  the  gubernatorial  campaign  in  Ohio  in  1859, 
he  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  reply  to 
his  old  antagonist,  and  he  spoke  in  Columbus 
and  in  Cincinnati  before  tremendous  audiences. 
In  December  he  spoke  in  Kansas,  and  then  ac- 
cepted an  invitation  to  deliver  an  address, 
February  27, 1860,  at  Cooper  Institute  in  New 
York. 

It  was  a  notable  speech,  delivered  before  a 
distinguished  audience,  presided  over  by  Wil- 
liam CuUen  Bryant.  Lincoln  was  at  first  un- 
comfortable and  embarrassed:  he  "imagined 

100 


AERAHAJVI  LINCOLN 

that  the  audience  noticed  the  contrast  between 
his  Western  clothes  and  the  neat-fitting  suit 
of  Mr.  Bryant  and  others  who  sat  on  the  plat- 
form." But  Horace  Greeley  said  next  day  in 
the  Tribune,  "No  man  ever  made  such  an  im- 
pression in  his  first  appeal  to  a  New  York 
audience." 

From  New  York  he  went  to  New  England. 
His  speeches  there  w^ere  not  so  formal  as  the 
Cooper  Institute  address,  but  they  made  as 
deep  an  impression,  and  he  went  home  with  a 
national  reputation.  ^len  were  inquiring 
about  him.  The  strange  story  of  his  life  ap- 
pealed to  the  imagination  of  the  North,  and 
his  Illinois  friends  urged  him  to  let  them  set 
about  the  work  so  congenial  to  them.  "What's 
the  use  of  talking  about  me  whilst  we  have 
such  men  as  Seward,  Chase,  and  others?"  he 
said  to  Jesse  Fell,  who  sought  data  for  a  biog- 
raphy. Fell  pleaded.  At  last  Lincoln  rose, 
wrapped  his  old  grey  shawl  about  him :  "Fell, 
I  admit  that  I  am  ambitious  and  would  like  to 
be  President.     I  am  not  insensible  to  the  com- 

101 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

pliment  you  pay  me  and  the  interest  you  mani- 
fest in  the  matter,  but  there  is  no  such  good  luck 
in  store  for  me  as  the  Presidency  of  these 
United  States.  Besides,  there  is  nothing  in 
my  early  history  that  would  interest  you  or 
anybody  else."  But  Davis,  Swett,  Logan, 
Palmer — the  lawyers  who  had  known  him  on 
the  circuit,  and  loved  him — urged  the  more  be- 
cause of  their  love.  At  last  he  consented,  and 
was  quietly  occupied  during  the  spring  with 
that  wire-pulling  at  which  he  was  so  adept. 
He  went,  as  a  spectator,  to  the  State  Conven- 
tion at  Decatur  on  May  9,  and  when  a  banner 
was  borne  in,  inscribed  "Abraham  Lincoln,  the 
Rail  Candidate  for  President  in  1860,"  sup- 
ported by  two  well- weathered  fence  rails  dec- 
orated with  ribbons,  "from  a  lot  of  3,000  made 
by  Abraham  Lincoln  and  John  Hanks  in  the 
Sangamon  Bottom,  in  the  year  1830,"  the  con- 
vention went  wild.  Lincoln,  of  course,  made 
a  speech,  and  the  State  delegation  was  in- 
structed to  "use  all  honourable  means"  to  se- 
cure his  nomination. 

102 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

The  National  Convention  met  in  Chicago  a 
week  later,  and  Davis,  Swett,  Judd,  Palmer, 
Logan,  and  Oglesby  were  there.  The  town 
was  filled  with  a  turbulent  crowd.  Processions 
trailed  in  the  streets  all  night,  shouting  for  the 
several  candidates.  But  night  and  day,  with- 
out rest,  without  sleep,  Lincoln's  friends 
worked, — "like  nailers,"  as  Oglesby  said. 
Surely,  they  left  nothing  undone,  even  to  dis- 
regarding Lincoln's  own  expressed  wishes,  and 
entering  into  a  bargain  with  Simon  Cameron, 
of  Pennsylvania,  which  was  to  plague  Lincoln 
later.  Cameron  was  Pennsylvania's  candi- 
date, as  Chase  was  Ohio's,  and  Seward  New 
York's.  Indeed,  Seward,  who  in  his  "higher 
law"  and  "irrepressible  conflict"  utterances  had 
taken  ground  as  advanced  as  Lincoln,  was  by 
all  considered  as  sure  of  the  nomination.  But 
so  well  did  the  friends  of  Lincoln  work  that  on 
May  16,  on  the  third  ballot,  he  received  231^2 
votes,  Seward  180,  with  53%  scattering,  and 
he  was  nominated.  At  the  announcement  of 
the  result  a  frenzied  partisan  shouted:     "Hal- 

103 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

lelujah!  Abe  Lincoln's  nominated!"  and  a 
cannon  boomed  from  the  top  of  the  huge  wig- 
wam in  which  the  convention  assembled,  but 
the  convention  could  not  hear  it  for  the  amazing 
demonstration  the  delegates  made, — a  demon- 
stration that  spread  outside,  literally  all  over 
Illinois. 

JMeanwhile,  down  in  Springfield,  with  rising 
and  falling  hopes,  now  confident,  now  plunged 
in  his  constitutional  melancholy,  Lincoln  was 
waiting.  When  the  news  came,  he  was  found 
playing  handball.  Looking  at  the  telegram  a 
moment,  he  said,  "There  is  a  little  woman  down 
on  Eighth  Street  who  will  be  glad  to  hear  this 
news,"  and  strode  away  to  tell  her. 

And  down  in  Washington  Douglas  was  say- 
ing, **There  won't  be  a  tar  barrel  left  in  Illinois 
to-night." 

The  notification,  so  great  a  ceremony  in  these 
days,  was  prompt  and  simple.  A  day  later, 
in  the  evening,  the  committee  was  received  by 
Lincoln  in  the  parlour  of  his  home.  The  com- 
mittee had  its  own  misgivings,  which  the  tall, 

104 


ABRAHAJM  LINCOLN 

gaunt  figure,  with  its  drooping  shoulders, 
standing  awkwardly  and  with  downcast  eyes  on 
the  hearthstone,  did  not  do  much  to  reassure, 
until  he  began  to  speak.  Then  the  bronze  face 
caught  a  new  light  from  the  grey  eyes,  through 
which  the  great  soul  looked  out  upon  the  com- 
mittee, and  an  hour  later  the  distinguished  gen- 
tlemen departed,  all  delighted. 

The  Democrats,  splitting  at  Charleston,  had 
adjourned  to  Baltimore  and  nominated  Doug- 
las and  Johnson.  The  bolters  nominated 
Breckenridge  and  Lane.  There  was  a  fourth 
ticket.  Bell  and  Everett,  representing  the 
** Constitutional  Union"  party.  Douglas  made 
a  vigorous  canvass,  but  that  second  question 
Lincoln  had  put  to  him  in  the  Freeport  debate 
would  not  down.  The  radical  Southerners 
would  none  of  him,  but  supported  Brecken- 
ridge. 

During  the  campaign  Lincoln  remained 
quietly  in  Springfield.  The  governor's  rooms 
in  the  State  House  were  placed  at  his  disposal, 
and  here  he  met  his  callers,  talked  and  joked 

105 


ABRAHAJM  LINCOLN 

and  whispered  with  them,  M^as  skilful,  wary, 
and  discreet  in  all  he  said  and  in  the  very  little 
he  wrote,  and,  when  embarrassing  questions 
were  asked,  he  told  a  story  or  had  the  private 
secretary  he  had  newly  installed  make  a  stereo- 
typed reply,  referring  to  his  record  and  his 
speeches.  The  abolitionists,  of  course,  were  no 
more  satisfied  with  him  than  the  radicals  of 
any  cause  ever  are  with  their  representatives 
when  the  cause  arrives,  though  Chase  supported 
him,  and  Seward,  with  a  sincerity  that  pleased 
him.  Perhaps  nothing  more  distressed  him 
than  the  attitude  of  the  Springfield  preachers. 
Of  the  twenty- three  in  the  town,  twenty  were 
against  him.  "These  men  well  know,"  he  said, 
"that  I  am  for  freedom,  and  yet  with  this 
book,"  indicating  the  New  Testament,  "in  their 
hands,  in  the  light  of  which  human  bondage 
cannot  live  a  moment,  they  are  going  to  vote 
against  me.  I  do  not  understand  it  at  all." 
In  November  he  received  a  total  popular  vote 
of  1,866,452,  and  180  electoral  votes,  all  of  the 
eighteen  Northern  States  except  New  Jersey, 

loa 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

which  gave  part  of  her  vote  to  Douglas.  The 
Little  Giant  polled  1,375,157  votes,  but  in  the 
electoral  college  had  but  12  votes,  three  in  New 
Jersey  and  nine  in  Missouri.  Breckenridge 
had  72  electoral  votes,  carrying  all  the  Southern 
States  except  Virginia,  Kentucky,  and  Tennes- 
see, which  gave  their  39  electoral  votes  to  Bell. 
Four  days  after  the  election  the  South  began 
to  execute  its  threat  of  secession.  The  South 
Carolina  senators  resigned,  by  Christmas  the 
palmetto  flag  floated  over  every  federal  build- 
ing in  that  State,  and  early  in  January  the 
South  Carolinians  had  fired  on  the  Star  of  the 
West  as  she  entered  Charleston  harbour  with 
supplies  for  Fort  Sumter.  Meanwhile  Lin- 
coln had  to  wait  in  Springfield  while  the  great 
conspiracy  matured,  while  the  impotent 
Buchanan  let  the  very  government  slip  from 
his  weak  hands,  while  Greeley  aided  the  disin- 
tegration of  the  nation  by  his  silly  editorials, 
while  men  were  for  peace  at  any  price,  even 
Seward  anxious  for  compromise,  and  the  busi- 
ness interests  of  the  East,  timid  as  ever,  for 

107 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

anything  that  would  save  their  sacred  stock 
market.  By  February,  seven  of  the  Southern 
States — South  Carohna,  Mississippi,  Florida, 
Alabama,  Georgia,  Louisiana,  and  Texas — 
had  declared  themselves  out  of  the  Union  and 
formed  the  Confederate  States  of  America, 
with  Jefferson  Davis,  of  Mississippi,  as  Presi- 
dent, and  Alexander  H.  Stephens,  of  Georgia, 
Vice-President. 

Well  might  Lincoln  appear  "more  distracted 
and  absent-minded"  and  "sorrowful  unto 
death,"  with  a  "preternatural  expression  of  ex- 
quisite grief"  in  his  eyes;  well  might  he  say,  "I 
shall  never  be  glad  any  more."  But,  if  sad,  he 
was  calm  during  this  trying  interregnum,  and 
did  not  take  seriously  the  coarse  editorials  in 
Southern  newspapers,  referring  to  him  as 
"Lincoln,  the  beast,"  the  "Illinois  ape,"  etc. 
He  was  at  work  on  his  inaugural  address,  and 
at  the  same  time  troubled  with  his  cabinet  ap- 
pointments. The  trade  Judge  Davis  had 
made  at  Chicago  with  Cameron,  the  political 
boss  of  Pennsylvania,  already  plagued  him. 

108 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

But  the  time  passed  at  last;  and,  after  a  pil- 
grimage to  the  grave  of  his  father  in  Coles 
County  and  a  visit  to  his  stepmother,  early  on 
Monday  morning,  February  11,  he  left  Spring- 
field for  Washington.  His  old  friends  and 
neighbours  went  down  to  the  railway  station  to 
see  him  off,  and  stood  patiently,  bareheaded  in 
the  rain,  while,  with  tears  streaming  down  his 
dark  cheeks,  he  made  his  touching  little  fare- 
well speech  from  the  platform  of  the  coach : — 
"My  friends,  no  one,  not  in  my  situation,  can 
appreciate  my  feeling  of  sadness  at  this  part- 
ing. To  this  place,  and  the  kindness  of  these 
people,  I  owe  everything.  Here  I  have  lived  a 
quarter  of  a  century  and  have  passed  from  a 
young  to  an  old  man.  Here  my  children  have 
been  born  and  one  is  buried.  I  now  leave,  not 
knowing  when  or  whether  ever  I  may  return, 
with  a  task  before  me  greater  than  that  which 
rested  upon  Washington.  Without  the  assist- 
ance of  that  Divine  Being  who  ever  attended 
him,  I  cannot  succeed.  With  that  assistance, 
I  cannot  fail.     Trusting  to  Him  who  can  go 

109 


ABRAHA]\I  LINCOLN 

with  me,  and  remain  with  you,  and  be  every- 
where for  good,  let  us  confidently  hope  that  all 
will  yet  be  well.  To  His  care  commending 
you,  as  I  hope  in  your  prayers  you  wdll  com- 
mend me,  I  bid  you  an  affectionate  farewell." 
On  the  way  he  stopped  at  Indianapolis,  Cin- 
cinnati, Columbus,  Cleveland,  Buffalo,  Al- 
bany, and  New  York,  and  everywhere  to  the 
waiting  crowds  made  short,  informal  ad- 
dresses, wearily  avoiding  any  announcement  of 
policy.  At  Philadelphia  on  Washington's 
Birthday,  in  celebration  of  the  admission  of 
Kansas  as  a  free  State,  he  raised  a  new  flag  of 
thirty-four  stars  over  Independence  Hall.  He 
was  deeply  moved,  and  spoke  fervently  of 
*'that  sentiment  in  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence Vvhich  gives  Hberty  not  alone  to  the 
people  of  this  country,  but  hope  to  all  the  ^vorld 
for  all  future  times;  .  .  .  which  gave  promise 
that  in  due  time  the  weights  would  be  hfted 
from  the  shoulders  of  all  men,  and  that  all 
should  have  an  equal  chance."  And  then  "If 
this  country  cannot  be  saved  without  giving  up 

110 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

that  principle,  I  was  about  to  say  I  would 
rather  be  assassinated  on  this  spot  than  surren- 
der it." 

This  reference  to  assassination  was  signifi- 
cant. Detectives  claimed  to  have  discovered  a 
plot  to  kill  him  as  he  passed  through  Baltimore. 
He  insisted  on  fulfilling  his  engagement  to  ad- 
dress the  legislature  at  Harrisburg,  then  con- 
sented to  go  on  that  night,  incognito.  The 
next  morning  the  country  heard  that  he  was 
safe  in  the  capital.  Even  then  and  the  nine 
succeeding  days,  men  were  betting  in  hotel  cor- 
ridors that  he  would  never  be  inaugurated. 
Those  were  trying  days.  The  office-seekers, 
willing  to  take  the  chance  of  assassination,  had 
already  begun  their  descent  upon  him. 

Inauguration  Day,  March  4,  1861,  dawned 
in  brilliant  sunshine.  At  noon  President 
Buchanan,  "far  advanced  in  years,  in  low- 
crowned,  broad-brimmed  silk  hat,  an  immense 
white  cravat,  with  swallow-tail  coat  not  of  the 
newest  style,"  waited  on  Lincoln  to  escort  him 
to  the  Capitol  and  place  upon  the  strong  shoul- 

111 


ABRAHAIM  LINCOLN 

ders  of  the  great  Westerner  the  burden  which 
had  been  too  heavj  for  the  infirm  old  diplomat. 
They  di'ove  together  down  Pennsylvania  Ave- 
nue. The  ceremonies  were  held  in  the  eastern 
portico  of  the  new  Capitol,  and  on  the  tempo- 
rary platform  distinguished  officialdom  had 
gathered.  The  crowd,  small  because  of  the 
rumour  of  tragedy, — old  Winfield  Scott  had 
posted  troops,  and  was  ready,  "if  any  of  them 
show  their  heads  or  raise  a  finger,"  to  ''blow 
them  to  hell," — awaited  in  unsympathetic  si- 
lence. Lincoln,  attired  in  new  clothes,  his  so- 
ber face  changed  by  the  beard  that  had  not  yet 
grown  sufficiently  to  justify  the  predictions  of 
the  little  girl  who  had  naively  advised  it,  was 
plainly  embarrassed,  and  stood  for  an  awkward 
moment  holding  in  one  hand  his  high  hat  and  in 
the  other  a  large  gold-headed  ebony  stick. 
But  Douglas,  his  old  rival,  was  there,  and,  step- 
ping promptly  forward,  relieved  him  of  hat 
and  cane  and  held  them  for  him, — a  graceful 
incident,  the  significance  of  which  was  not  lost. 
The    ceremonies    were    brief.     Edward    D. 

112 


ABRAHAJM  LINCOLN 

Baker,  dearest  of  old  Springfield  friends,  now 
senator  from  Oregon,  formally  presented  him, 
and,  after  he  had  read  his  inaugm^al  address, 
the  aged  Chief  Justice  Taney,  who  had  written 
the  Dred  Scott  decision,  in  his  black  robes  ad- 
ministered the  oath  to  the  new  President,  who 
was  forever  to  overthrow  the  doctrine  on  which 
that  decision  was  based. 

He  read  his  address,  so  long  and  eagerly 
awaited,  read  it  distinctly,  so  that  all  could  hear, 
— hear  him  say  that  misunderstandings  had 
caused  differences,  disavow  any  intention  to 
interfere  with  the  existing  privilege  of  slavery, 
and  even  declare  himself  in  favour  of  a  new 
fugitive  slave  law.  But  he  was  firm.  *'The 
Union  of  these  States  is  perpetual,"  he  said, 
and  "no  State,  upon  its  own  mere  motion,  can 
lawfully  get  out  of  the  Union."  "I  shall  take 
care,  as  the  Constitution  itself  expressly  en- 
joins upon  me,  that  the  laws  of  the  Union  be 
faithfully  executed  in  all  the  States,"  and  he 
was  determined  "to  hold,  occupy,  and  possess 
the  property  and  places  belonging  to  the  Gov- 

113 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

ernment  and  to  collect  the  duties  and  imposts." 
And  he  closed  with  the  beautiful  passage, 
founded  upon  Seward's  suggestion:  "I  am 
loath  to  close.  We  are  not  enemies,  but 
friends.  We  must  not  be  enemies.  Though 
passion  may  have  strained,  it  must  not  break 
our  bonds  of  affection.  The  mystic  chords  of 
memory,  stretching  from  every  battlefield  and 
patriot  grave  to  every  Hving  heart  and  hearth- 
stone all  over  this  broad  land,  will  yet  swell  the 
chorus  of  the  Union  when  again  touched,  as 
surely  they  will  be,  by  the  better  angels  of  our 
nature." 


114 


IV 

When  Lincoln  drove  from  his  inaugural  to 
the  White  House,  it  was,  indeed,  to  face  a  task 
greater  than  that  which  rested  upon  Washing- 
ton, as  great  surely  as  ever  rested  on  any  man. 
He  realised  his  task  fully,  but  his  way,  he  said, 
was  "plain  as  a  turnpike  road."  He  was,  first 
of  all,  tormented  by  the  office-seekers,  so  ter- 
rible an  affliction  to  every  executive  in  these 
States,  and  in  bitterness  he  said,  "This  human 
struggle  and  scramble  for  office  will  finally  test 
the  strength  of  our  institutions."  But  the  dif- 
ficulties of  cabinet  making  at  least  were  done, 
and  the  next  day  he  sent  to  the  Senate  these 
names:  William  H.  Seward,  Secretary  of 
State;  Salmon  P.  Chase,  Secretary  of  the 
Treasury;  Simon  Cameron,  Secretary  of  War; 
Gideon  Welles,  Secretary  of  the  Navy;  Caleb 
B.  Smith,  Secretary  of  the  Interior;  Edward 

115 


ABRAHAJNI  LINCOLN 

Bates,   Attorney- General;   and  Montgomery 
Blair,  Postmaster- General. 

That  same  day,  the  very  first  thing,  the 
whole  issue  was  presented  to  him  in  a  letter 
from  Major  Anderson,  with  his  little  band, 
hungry  in  Fort  Sumter.  He  wanted  pro- 
visions. The  place  could  be  held  only  by 
20,000  disciplined  troops.  The  army  num- 
bered but  16,000  men.  What  was  he  to  do? 
General  Scott  said  "evacuation."  Lincoln  re- 
plied, "When  Anderson  goes  out  of  Fort  Sum- 
ter, I  shall  have  to  go  out  of  the  White 
House."  While  he  pondered,  the  country 
clamoured.  Congress  demanded  the  Ander- 
son correspondence,  which  he  refused,  his  mil- 
itary advisers  differed,  his  cabinet  differed. 
The  days  went  by.  IMeanwhile  Seward,  cheer- 
fully joining  in  the  assumption  that  he,  and 
not  Lincoln,  was  the  man  of  the  hour,  had 
taken  it  upon  himself  to  assure  the  Confed- 
erate Commissioners,  then  in  Washington,  that 
Sumter  would  be  evacuated.  When  he 
learned  that  Lincoln  had  decided  otherwise,  he 

116 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

laid  before  him,  on  April  1,  "Some  Thoughts 
for  the  President's  Consideration,"  in  which, 
after  complaining  of  the  *lack  of  policy,"  he 
proposed  to  make  war  on  Spain  and  France, 
to  "seek  explanations  from  Great  Britain  and 
Russia,"  and  suggested  that  the  direction  of 
this  policy  be  devolved  by  the  President  "on 
some  member  of  his  cabinet,"  concluding  with 
modest  significance,  "It  is  not  in  my  especial 
province ;  but  I  neither  seek  to  evade  or  assume 
responsibility."  This  astounding  proposal 
Lincoln  received  in  his  kind,  magnanimous 
spirit.  "As  to  the  policy,  I  remark  that  if  this 
must  be  done,  I  must  do  it.  .  .  .  When  a  gen- 
eral line  of  policy  is  adopted,  I  apprehend 
there  is  no  danger  of  its  being  changed  without 
good  reason,  or  continuing  to  be  a  subject  of 
unnecessary  debate;  still,  upon  points  arising 
in  its  progress  I  wish,  and  suppose  I  am  en- 
titled to  have,  the  advice  of  all  the  cabinet." 
Thus  Seward  learned,  as  the  nation  was  to 
learn,  who  was  master,  and  how  great  and 
wise  and  capable  he  was,  and  two  months  later 

117 


ABRAHAIM  LIISXOLN 

Seward  acknowledged  the  superiority.  "Ex- 
ecutive force  and  vigour  are  rare  qualities,"  he 
wrote;  "the  President  is  the  best  of  us." 

A  few  days  later  the  relief  for  Fort  Sumter 
sailed  from  New  York  harbour.  The  Presi- 
dent had  scrupulously  notified  the  Governor- 
of  South  Carolina  that  the  relief  would  be  at- 
tempted, but  by  a  blunder  of  the  President's 
own  the  warship  Powhatan  was  sent  to  Fort 
Pickens  instead.  When  the  news  that  the  ex- 
pedition had  sailed  reached  Charleston,  Beau- 
regard demanded  surrender,  and  then  gave  the 
order  to  reduce  the  fort.  On  April  12  the 
bombardment  began,  as  Anderson  and  his  men 
were  eating  the  very  last  of  their  rations. 
They  fought  gallantly,  but  on  the  morning  of 
the  13th  their  guns  were  silenced.  All  the 
time  the  three  transports  of  the  relief  expe- 
dition had  been  lying  outside  the  bar,  awaiting 
the  Powhatan,  With  her  assistance  the  fort 
could  have  been  relieved,  for  the  night  was 
very  dark.  It  was  a  grievous  blunder,  for 
which  Lincoln  assumed  the  whole  responsibil- 

118 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

ity.  It  is  a  question  for  debate  what  history 
would  have  been,  had  this  blunder  not  oc- 
curred,— one  of  those  perhaps  useless  questions 
which  never  can  be  answered.  Lincoln  has 
been  criticised  for  having  delayed  so  long,  but 
miltary  advisers  had  told  him  that  evacuation 
was  inevitable,  his  cabinet  was  against  the  at- 
tempt, public  opinion  was  compromising  and 
opposed  to  any  overt  act.  But,  whatever  the 
result  otherwise  might  have  been,  the  effect 
was  instantaneous.  The  whole  North  arose, 
a  unity  at  last  in  its  mighty  wrath.  Douglas 
promptly  assured  the  President  of  his  support, 
and  telegraphed  his  followers  that  he  had  given 
his  pledge  to  ''sustain  the  President  in  the  ex- 
ercise of  all  his  constitutional  functions  to  pre- 
serve the  Union  and  maintain  the  government, 
and  defend  the  Federal  Capital."  No  more 
talk  of  compromise  or  concession,  nor  more  dis- 
cussion of  the  right  or  wrong  of  slavery.  Lin- 
coln, for  that  issue,  had  substituted  the  issue 
of  Union,  and  he  had  forced  the  Confederacy 
into  the  position  of  aggressor.     On  the  15th 

119 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

came  his  proclamation  calling  for  75,000  vol- 
unteers and  convening  Congress  in  extra  ses- 
sion for  July  4.  The  response  was  electrical. 
Hundreds  of  thousands  of  men  all  over  the 
North  offered  themselves  in  the  Union  cause, 
glad  that  the  long  anxiety  was  over.  This 
temper  was  not  softened  when,  on  April  19, 
the  Sixth  Massachusetts  was  assaulted  in  the 
streets  of  Baltimore.  Twelve  rioters  and  four 
soldiers  w^ere  killed,  and  many  wounded.  It 
was  a  trying  time.  All  about  the  little  Dis- 
trict of  Columbia  lay  Maryland,  full  of  seces- 
sion sentiment,  protesting  against  the  passage 
of  any  more  troops  through  Baltimore. 
There  was  great  danger  of  the  capture  of 
Washington,  and  with  the  capital  in  its  hands 
the  Confederacy  would  be  certain  of  European 
recognition.  At  the  White  House  they  could 
get  no  news.  The  wires  to  the  North  had  been 
cut,  and  Lincoln,  awaiting  the  Seventh  New 
York,  groaned:  "Why  don't  they  come! 
Why  don't  they  come!" 

In  this  crisis,  if,  as  always,  conciliatory,  he 

120 


ABRAHAJVI  LINCOLN 

was  fii'm.  If  troops  could  not  march  through 
Baltimore,  they  could  march  around  it;  and, 
when  there  were  protests  against  the  troops 
crossing  the  **sacred"  soil  of  Maryland,  he  re- 
plied that  his  soldiers  could  neither  fly  over  the 
State  nor  burrow  under  it,  and  that  Maryland 
must  learn  that  "there  was  no  piece  of  Ameri- 
can soil  too  good  to  be  pressed  by  the  foot  of  a 
loyal  soldier  as  he  marched  to  the  defence  of 
the  capital  of  his  country."  Gradually,  senti- 
ment in  Maryland  changed,  especially  when 
business  in  Baltimore  was  affected;  and,  when 
soldiers  enough  arrived  in  Washington  to  in- 
sure the  defence  of  the  capital,  union  sentiment 
in  Maryland  was  stimulated  and  grew  until  the 
end  of  the  war,  keeping  her  in  the  Union. 

And  now,  while  visiting  the  camps  about 
Washington,  consulting  with  ofKcers,  hobnob- 
bing with  private  soldiers  in  his  simple  West- 
ern way,  joking,  listening  to  queries  and  com- 
plaints, gaining  that  personal  love  which  they 
bore  him  through  the  whole  war,  Lincoln  was 
constantly  brooding  over  his  mighty  problem. 

121 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

His  task  just  then  was  to  prevent  further  de- 
fections from  the  Union,  to  prevent  European 
recognition  of  the  Confederacy,  and  to  create 
an  army  and  navy  that  could  reassert  the 
national  power  throughout  the  States  in  re- 
bellion. Slowly,  cautiously,  patiently,  with 
many  blunders  and  mistakes,  in  the  midst  of 
misunderstanding,  noisy  criticism,  and  malig- 
nant abuse,  he  made  his  way.  It  was  a  tri- 
umph of  diplomacy  that  he  prevented  Ken- 
tucky from  following  Virginia  in  secession; 
and,  while  he  was  not  so  successful  with  other 
States, — for,  by  June,  Arkansas,  North  Caro- 
lina, and  Tennessee  had  joined  the  Confed- 
eracy,— he  did  save  not  only  Kentucky,  but 
Missouri.  The  secession  of  Virginia  was  a 
disastrous  blow.  The  capital  of  the  Confed- 
eracy was  removed  to  Richmond,  and  the  Old 
Dominion  gave  its  great  son,  Robert  E.  Lee, 
to  command  the  Southern  army,  and  for  four 
years  the  stars  and  bars  were  to  fly  in  defiance, 
almost  in  the  President's  face,  from  the  hills 
across  the  Potomac. 

122 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

With  growing  mastery  President  Lincoln 
watched  over  men  and  events,  tempered  with 
his  kindliness  and  caution  Seward's  diplomacy, 
studied  the  science  of  war  while  the  army  and 
navy  were  being  organised;  and  driven  in 
April  to  suspend  the  writ  of  habeas  corpus, 
thereby,  on  the  one  hand,  bringing  down  on  his 
head  the  criticism  that  he  was  a  dictator  and 
usm^per,  and,  on  the  other,  that  he  was  not 
tyrannical  enough,  he  was  ready,  when  Con- 
gress convened  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  to  give 
to  it  and  to  the  people  his  reasons  for  the 
course  he  was  following.  The  army  was 
anxious  to  move,  the  North  was  clamouring, 
and  Lincoln  decided  to  seize  Arlington 
Heights  across  the  Potomac.  On  May  23  the 
movement  began,  the  Heights  were  occupied, 
the  enemy  fled,  the  flag  was  lowered,  but  it  cost 
the  life  of  young  Ellsworth,  a  dashing  com- 
mander of  Zouaves  whom  Lincoln  had  known 
and  loved  back  at  Springfield.  Then  for 
weeks  the  army  lay  inactive,  while  the  North, 
led  by  Greeley,   cried,   "On  to  Richmond!" 

123 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

The  enemy  had  intrenched  at  Manassas  Junc- 
tion, and  General  Scott  opposed  an  advance, 
saying  that  the  army  was  not  ready;  but  Lin- 
cohi,  nevertheless,  ordered  the  movement. 
There  were  delays,  but  at  last,  on  July  21, 
McDowell  was  ready  to  attack  Beauregard. 
It  was  a  hot  Sunday  of  brilliant  sunshine,  and 
by  afternoon  reports  were  so  encouraging  that 
Lincoln  went  for  a  drive;  but  that  night  with 
his  cabinet  and  General  Scott  in  the  telegraph 
office,  where  he  was  to  spend  so  many  anxious 
hours  during  the  rest  of  his  life,  there  came  the 
report  from  McDowell,  "Our  army  is  retreat- 
ing," and  soon  he  knew  of  the  fii'st  great  dis- 
aster of  Bull  Run.  At  dawn,  in  a  drizzling 
rain,  demoralised  troops  began  to  pour  into 
Washington  over  Long  Bridge.  If  the  blow 
staggered  the  North,  it  sobered  and  steadied 
it.  The  nation  realised  that  it  was  in  a  real 
war,  and  it  set  itself,  with  grim  determination, 
to  the  great  task.  Congress  voted  men  and 
money,  and  Lincoln  called  to  the  command  of 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac  the  young  general, 

124 


ABRAHAJNI  LINCOLN 

George  B.  McClellan,  who  had  been  winning 
successes  in  Western  Virginia,  and  electrify- 
ing the  North  by  Napoleonic  despatches. 
These  despatches,  his  youth,  and  his  dash  had 
made  him  popular.  He  was  a  man  of  engag- 
ing personality,  an  efficient  organiser  and  engi- 
neer, though  Lincoln  was  soon  to  remark  that 
his  especial  talent  was  as  a  stationary  engineer. 
McClellan  came  in  the  brilliant  style  in  which 
he  always  moved,  and  out  of  the  remnants  of 
the  militia  who  had  fled  from  Bull  Run  and  out 
of  the  new  volunteers  pouring  into  camp — in- 
telligent artisans  of  the  North,  hardy  farmers 
of  the  West,  come  to  fight  for  principle — he 
proceeded  to  create  one  of  the  finest  armies  in 
history. 

Fremont,  in  command  in  the  West,  took  it 
upon  himself  that  fall  to  issue  a  proclamation 
emancipating  the  slaves  of  non-Union  men  in 
Missouri.  If  the  act  pleased  the  abolitionists, 
it  created  consternation  in  the  Border  States 
and  added  to  Lincoln's  burden.  Lie  revoked 
the  proclamation,  of  course,  and  thereby  saved 

125 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

Kentucky,  Missouri,  and  Maryland  to  the 
Union.  The  abolitionists,  mightily  offended, 
talked  of  impeachment.  They  saw  the  moral 
issue  of  slavery  rather  than  the  political  issue 
of  union;  and  the  clamour,  led  by  Greeley,  was 
long  and  loud.  The  troubles  in  Missouri  were 
long  to  exasperate  the  patient  man  in  the 
White  House.  It  was  the  beginning  of  that 
period,  destined  to  last  so  long,  when  he  was 
constantly  distressed  by  the  childish  piques  and 
prides  of  his  generals,  who,  considering  them- 
selves competent  to  command  armies,  could  not 
even  command  themselves.  But  his  patience 
never  was  exhausted, — not  even  by  the  imperti- 
nence of  Buell,  who  failed  to  move  into  east- 
ern Tennessee  and  stop  the  depredations  of 
Confederate  soldiers  who  were  harrying  and 
even  hanging  the  loyal  residents.  But  there 
was  one  general  who  was  not  so, — Grant  in  the 
West,  taking  Fort  Henry,  then  Donelson,  and 
in  February,  1862,  sending  his  famous  des- 
patch to  Buckner:  *'No  terms  except  uncon- 
ditional and  immediate  surrender.     I  propose 

126 


ABRAHAJVI  LINCOLN 

to  move  immediately  upon  your  works." 
What  balm  to  that  weary  spirit!  They  urged 
him,  of  course,  to  remove  Grant;  but  "this  man 
fights,"  he  said.  Then  the  "good"  people  told 
him  that  Grant  drank.  *'Do  you  know  what 
brand  of  whiskey  ?"  he  asked.  "I'd  like  to  send 
a  barrel  to  each  of  my  other  generals."  But  it 
was  too  soon  for  Grant.  There  were  yet 
long  months  of  JMcClellan  and  his  successors, 
and  the  only  victories  worth  while  were  that  of 
the  Monitor  over  the  Merrimac,  March  9, 
1862,  and  the  capture  of  New  Orleans  in 
April. 

McClellan,  meanwhile,  had  been  organising 
and  intrenching  his  168,000  men.  Lincoln 
watched  him  intently,  intelligently,  and  with 
the  sympathy  of  a  father,  visiting  him  at  his 
headquarters,  giving  him  all  he  asked,  but  all 
his  solicitude  and  kindness  were  lost.  To 
JMcClellan  the  President's  friendly  visits  were 
merely  "interruptions"  of  his  tremendous 
thoughts  and  large  schemes;  the  cabinet  were 
"the  greatest  geese" ;  and,  being  obliged  to  at- 

127 


ABRAHAJM  LINCOLN 

tend  their  meeting,  he  was  "bored  and  an- 
noyed." But  the  President  and  the  country 
were  patient.  The  people  had  learned  a  lesson 
from  Bull  Run,  and  were  no  longer  crying, 
"On  to  Richmond!"  Every  day  there  were 
guard-mounts  and  parades,  and  now  and  then 
reviews,  brilliant  military  spectacles  wherein 
McClellan  excelled,  which  all  Washington 
went  out  to  see.  It  was  a  gay  holiday  time  for 
every  one  but  Lincoln,  for  whom  there  never 
was  gayety  and  were  never  more  to  be  holi- 
days. 

But  when  the  autumn  moved  by,  with  its 
glorious  weather,  and  nothing  was  done,  the 
muttering  began  and  increased  to  wrath  and 
new  dismay  by  the  end  of  October,  when  on  the 
21st  the  blunder  of  Ball's  Bluff  occurred. 
Lincoln  was  at  McClellan's  headquarters  when 
the  news  came  from  up  the  Potomac  that  his 
old  friend.  Colonel  Edward  D.  Baker,  had 
been  killed.  It  was  a  terrible  blow.  C.  C. 
Coffin  saw  him,  "unattended,  with  bowed  head 
and  tears  rolling  down  his  furrowed  cheeks,  his 

128 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

face  pale  and  wan,  his  breast  heaving  with  emo- 
tion," pass  through  the  room.  "With  both 
hands  pressed  upon  his  heart,  he  walked  down 
the  street,  not  returning  the  salute  of  the  senti- 
nel pacing  his  beat  before  the  door."  The 
fault  here  was  not  McClellan's,  and,  though 
the  nation  grumbled,  Lincoln  had  not  lost  faith 
in  him,  and  when  on  October  31  the  aged  Gen- 
eral Scott,  who  had  won  his  spurs  nearly  half  a 
century  before  at  Lundy's  Lane,  retired,  he 
raised  McClellan  to  the  post  of  commander-in- 
chief,  under  the  President,  of  the  armies  of  the 
United  States. 

But  now  for  a  space  he  was  to  be  distracted 
from  the  concern  McClellan's  immobility 
caused  him  by  another  difficulty,  which  for  a 
time  seemed  likely  to  plunge  the  nation  into 
war  with  England.  On  November  8  Captain 
Wilkes,  commanding  the  warship  San  Jacinto, 
overhauled  the  British  royal  mail  packet 
Trent,  one  day  out  from  Havana,  brought  her 
to  by  a  shot  across  her  bows,  and  took  from  her 
Mason  and  Slidell,  commissioners  from  the 

129 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

Confederacy  on  their  way  to  Europe.  When 
the  news  was  made  pubhc,  the  nation  was  in 
a  high  state  of  jubilation.  But  Lincoln  saw 
the  mistake;  he  feared  the  captured  commis- 
sioners would  "prove  to  be  white  elephants." 
If  there  were  bluster  and  jingoism  in  England, 
so  there  were  in  America,  and  public  sentiment 
favoured  the  keeping  of  the  commissioners  and 
braving  another  war.  Of  this  feeling  Seward 
himself  partook,  and  Lincoln  took  upon  him- 
self the  burden  of  diplomacy,  and  by  his  kind- 
ness moderated  the  too  offensive  tone  Seward 
was  apt  to  adopt  in  his  dealings  with  Lord 
Palmerston.  He  had,  however,  by  his  ex- 
quisite tact  and  almost  preternatural  knowl- 
edge of  men,  won  to  his  side  the  proud  and  rad- 
ical Sumner,  chairman  of  the  Senate  Commit- 
tee on  Foreign  Relations,  and,  though  as  Lin- 
coln said  slyly,  "Sumner  thinks  he  runs  me," 
he  really  "ran"  Sumner.  While  the  country 
raged,  Lincoln  kept  silent.  Sumner  was  in 
correspondence  with  Cobden  and  with  Bright, 
whose  portrait  hung  in  the  President's  execu- 

130 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

tive  chamber,  struggling  for  the  people's  cause 
in  England  as  Lincoln  was  in  America.  The 
British  ultimatum,  demanding  immediate  resti- 
tution and  apology,  was  presented,  and  on 
Christmas  morning  Lincoln  convened  his  cab- 
inet. Sumner  was  present  with  urgent  letters 
from  Bright  and  Cobden,  speaking  of  "your 
country,  the  great  hope  of  humanity,"  and 
urging  a  "courageous  stroke"  to  save  "you  and 
us."  Lincoln  was  ready  for  the  courageous 
stroke.  Mason  and  Slidell  were  released,  war 
was  averted,  and  sentiment  in  England  was  so 
softened  and  appeased  that  John  Stuart  Mill 
doubtless  reflected  the  best  of  it  when  he  wrote, 
"Is  there  any  one  capable  of  a  moral  judgment 
or  feeling  who  will  say  that  his  opinion  of 
America  and  American  statesmen  is  not  raised 
by  such  an  act  done  on  such  grounds?" 

Lincoln  had  made  no  reference  to  this  crit- 
ical affair  in  his  message  to  Congress  in  De- 
cember: he  knew  how  to  keep  silence  just  as 
he  knew  how  to  explain ;  but  there  was  in  that 
message  a  splendid  paragraph  expressing  his 

131 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

views  on  the  labour  question, — a  paragraph 
which  shows  that,  if  he  were  not  a  pohtical 
economist,  he  was,  what  is  greater,  a  lover  of 
humanity,  and  knew  instinctively  that  the 
cause  of  the  workers  of  the  world  was  the  cause 
of  democracy  everywhere,  and  that  the  war  he 
was  in  was  a  war  in  that  cause. 

"Labour,"  he  said,  "is  prior  to  and  independ- 
ent of  Capital.  Capital  is  only  the  fruit  of 
Labour,  and  could  never  have  existed  if  La- 
bour had  not  first  existed.  Labour  is  the  su- 
perior of  Capital,  and  deserves  much  the  higher 
consideration.  Capital  has  its  rights,  which 
are  as  worthy  of  protection  as  any  other  rights. 
Nor  is  it  denied  that  there  is,  and  probably 
always  will  be,  a  relation  between  Capital  and 
Labour  producing  mutual  benefit.  The  error 
is  in  assuming  that  the  whole  Labour  of  a  com- 
munity exists  within  that  relation.  A  few 
men  own  Capital,  and  that  few  avoid  Labour 
themselves,  and  with  their  capital  hire  or  buy 
another  few  to  labour  for  them.  A  large  ma- 
jority belong  to  neither  class — neither  work 

132 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

for  others,  nor  have  others  working  for  them. 
.  .  .  Many  independent  men  everywhere  in 
these  states,  a  few  years  back  in  their  lives, 
were  hired  labourers.  The  prudent,  penniless 
beginner  in  the  world  labours  for  wages  awhile, 
saves  a  surplus  with  which  to  buy  tools  or  land 
for  himself,  then  labours  on  his  own  account 
another  while,  and  at  length  hires  another  new 
beginner  to  help  him.  This  is  the  generous 
and  just  and  prosperous  system  which  opens 
the  way  to  all — gives  hope  to  all,  and  conse- 
quent energy  and  progress  and  improvement 
of  condition  to  all.  No  men  living  are  more 
worthy  to  be  trusted  than  those  who  toil  up 
from  poverty — none  less  inclined  to  take  or 
touch  aught  which  they  have  not  honestly 
earned.  Let  them  beware  of  surrendering  a 
political  power  which  they  already  possess, 
and  which,  if  surrendered,  will  surely  be  used 
to  close  the  door  of  advancement  against  such 
as  they,  and  to  fix  new  disabilities  and  burdens 
upon  them,  till  all  of  liberty  shall  be  lost." 
Far  as  he  could  see  into  the  future,  he  could 

133 


ABRAHAJ^vI  LINCOLN 

not  foresee  the  great  change  which,  with  eco- 
nomic evolution,  was  to  come  over  America 
and  the  world, — a  change  that  would  sweep 
away  the  individualistic  system  which,  in  the 
beginning,  the  fathers  had  admirably  met  in 
tlieii'  political  constitution, — ^the  system  which 
he  hoped  to  perfect.  Perhaps  he  confused 
then,  as  most  do  to-day,  political  liberty  with 
economic  liberty;  but  he  had  before  him  the 
great  ideal  of  equality  of  opportunity  so  beau- 
tifully imagined  in  the  immortal  Declaration, 
and  so  constantly  before  the  mind  of  our  ideal- 
ist, whose  dream  and  passion  it  became.  In 
that  war  this  superiority,  the  right  of  man  as 
against  the  right  of  property,  was  at  stake,  and 
in  a  sense  it  was  fortunate  that  the  rights  of 
property  were  then  contended  for  by  a  com- 
pact section  rather  than  by  capitalists  scattered 
everywhere,  by  a  class  easily  recognised  rather 
than  by  one  that  merged  its  identity  in  the 
whole  mass  of  the  people,  for  it  made  the  issue 
clear. 

But  the  cause  was  being  carried  forward 

134 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

with  tremendous  difficulty,  and  almost,  one 
might  say,  by  Lincoln  alone. 

The  trouble  he  had  feared  from  his  redemp- 
tion of  Davis's  unauthorised  promise  to  Cam- 
eron at  Chicago  had  been  present  for  some 
time:  if  Cameron  was  not  all  he  should  be  in 
the  War  Office,  he  was  exactly  what  Lincoln 
had  expected  him  to  be,  and  January  11,  1862, 
Lincoln  offered  him  the  post  of  minister  to 
Russia.  Cameron  accepted,  and  on  the  13th 
Lincoln  appointed  Edwin  M.  Stanton  Sec- 
retary of  War.  Stanton  was  a  Democrat,  a 
friend  of  McClellan,  and  had  never  ceased,  it 
seems,  to  speak  of  Lincoln  with  that  gross  abuse 
with  which  he  had  greeted  him  in  the  McCor- 
mick  case  at  Cincinnati  in  1859.  But,  with 
all  his  revilings  and  insults,  he  did  not  hesitate 
promptly  to  accept,  as  a  man  of  finer  nature 
might  have  done,  though  a  man  of  finer  na- 
ture would,  of  course,  never  have  been  so  in- 
solent as  Stanton  was.  But  if  he  was  insolent, 
truculent,  and  brow-beating,  with  all  the  petty 
tyrannies  and  injustices  of  the  bully,  and  if 

135 


ABRAHAJ^I  LINCOLN 

lie  often  sorely  tried  the  patient  President,  he 
was  an  honest  man  who  broke  the  ring  of  con- 
tractors, and  he  v/as  a  prodigious  worker. 
And  he  soon  learned — as  Sev/ard  had  learned 
and  as  McClellan  was  about  to  learn — that 
Lincohi  was  master;  and,  though  it  v/as  im- 
possible that  he  should  do  it  gracefully,  as 
Seward  did,  he  recognised  that  mastery  and 
superiority.  The  appointment  of  Stanton  is 
but  another  of  many  instances  of  Lincoln's 
ability  to  rise  above  all  personal  feelings  and 
considerations.  He  had  no  thought  for  him- 
self, for  his  personal  or  political  fortune;  he 
was  v/hoUy  absorbed  in  the  great  cause.  He 
needed  men,  and  he  took  them  whenever  and 
wherever  he  could  get  them,  no  matter  who 
they  were.  Surely,  he  dwelt  at  high  spiritual 
altitudes ! 

JMeanwhile,  for  six  months,  McClellan  had 
been  preparing  to  advance;  but  there  v/as  no 
advance.  With  American  humour  the  North 
accepted  the  daily  bulletins,  until  "All  quiet 
along  the  Potomac"  passed  into  the  fixities  of 

136 


AERAHAM  LINCOLN 

common  speech.  The  President  met  the  sit- 
uation with  his  almost  divine  patience,  and, 
though  in  distress,  that  humour  which  lay  so 
near  the  sadness  in  his  nature,  as  it  does  in  all 
great  natures,  came  to  his  relief,  and  epito- 
mised the  situation  in  his  observation  "that  if 
General  JMcClellan  did  not  want  to  use  the 
army,  he  would  like  to  borrow  it."  He  had 
recognised  his  own  want  of  knowledge  of  the 
art  of  war,  if  it  is  an  art,  and  in  McClellan 
he  reposed  a  confidence  which  it  was  not  JNIc- 
Clellan's  nature  to  appreciate.  In  December 
he  had  ventured  to  ask  McClellan,  *'if  it  was 
determined  to  make  a  forward  movement  of 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  .  .  .  how  long 
would  it  require  to  actually  get  it  in  motion?" 
And  to  this,  after  waiting  ten  days,  IMcClellan 
returned  a  disrespectful  reply.  Then  !Mc- 
Clellan  fell  ill.  The  President  was  in  despair. 
But  he  undertook  the  study  of  the  military 
problem  himself,  and  by  the  time  McClellan 
recovered,  in  January,  he  had  a  plan  which  he 
proposed;  namely,  to  move  directly  upon  the 

137 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

enemy  at  Centreville  and  Manassas,  and  to 
press  him  back  upon  Richmond,  in  order  to 
capture  that  city.  McClellan's  plan  was  to 
move  by  way  of  Urbana  and  West  Point, 
using  the  York  River  as  a  base.  Upon  the 
relative  merits  of  the  two  plans  a  difference 
arose  that  continues  to  this  day.  There  was 
a  long  discussion  between  Lincoln  and  his  re- 
calcitrant general,  which  lengthened  the  de- 
lay. The  North  divided  into  factions,  the  one 
accusing  "The  Virginia  Creeper" — the  nick- 
name with  which  American  humour  inevitably 
provided  him — of  disloyalty,  the  other  criticis- 
ing Lincoln  for  his  civilian  interference  with 
the  inscrutable  science  of  war.  But  Lincoln, 
unmoved  by  McClellan's  conduct  or  by  politi- 
cal clangour,  in  his  "General  War  Order  No. 
1"  directed  that  February  22,  1862,  "be  the 
day  for  a  general  movement  of  the  land  and 
naval  forces  of  the  United  States  against  the 
insurgent  forces."  The  critics  laughed,  but 
Lincoln  had,  as  always,  his  own  purpose.  On 
January  31  he  ordered  McClellan  to  seize  and 

138 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

occupy  a  point  near  Manassas  Junction,  and 
this  forced  the  issue.  McClellan  remon- 
strated, and  then  began  that  long  exchange 
of  letters  and  despatches  which,  better  than 
other  words  can  do,  reveals  the  characters  of 
the  two  men.  Lincoln  was  all  patience,  kind- 
ness, humour :  McClellan  was  querulous,  petty, 
and  sometimes  positively  insulting.  Wash- 
ington's birthday  came:  McClellan  did  not 
move.  By  March  Johnston  had  evacuated 
Manassas.  Then  the  President  relieved  Mc- 
Clellan of  command,  though  he  retained  him 
at  the  head  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac. 

Those  were  dark  days.  The  burden  Lin- 
coln bore  so  patiently  was  tremendous,  and 
was  made  wearier  by  the  advice  which  was  so 
copiously  tendered  him.  Abuse  and  criticism 
he  could  endure:  the  newspapers  he  did  not 
often  read,  for,  as  he  said,  "I  know  more  about 
it  than  they  do";  but  he  could  not  escape  ad- 
vice. Besides  the  daily  calls  of  senators  and 
representatives,  Congress  had  created  a  Com- 
mittee on  the  Conduct  of  the  War,  and  the 

139 


ABRAHAJVI  LINCOLN 

politicians  who  composed  that  inquisitorial 
body  could  jauntily  dispose  of  the  most  intri- 
cate military  problems  in  the  midst  of  their 
political  schemes,  and  Lincoln  had  to  surrender 
useful  time  and  employ  the  greatest  tact  with 
them.  The  newspapers  and  the  pulpits  in  the 
churches  were  full  of  counsel, — and  of  abuse 
because  it  was  not  heeded, — and  there  were,  of 
course,  delegations  of  clergymen  and  of  bank- 
ers. "Money!"  he  exclaimed  one  day  when 
Chase,  whom  he  allowed  to  manage  the  finances 
in  his  own  w^ay,  wished  to  present  a  delegation 
of  financiers, — "money!  I  don't  know  any- 
thing about  money!  I  never  had  enough  of 
my  own  to  fret  me,  and  I  have  no  opinion  about 
it,  anyway."  And  he  bore  it  all  patiently,  even 
meekly,  and  went  on  his  high,  lonely  way. 

Besides  all  this,  there  were  sombre  shadows 
in  the  private  chambers  of  the  White  House. 
Willie  and  Tad  were  ill  with  the  typhoid  fever, 
and  night  after  night,  after  a  day  half -crazed 
by  the  cares  of  a  nation,  he  spent  watching  by 
their  beds.     When  Willie  died,  it  was  a  blow 

140 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

that  overwhelmed  him,  and  for  a  month  he 
seemed  hkely  to  sink  under  the  grief  of  this 
affliction.  It  proved  to  be  one  of  the  great 
inner  crises  of  his  life.  Always  religious  in 
the  highest  sense,  he  seems  at  this  time  to  have 
gained  deeper  insight  into  the  mysteries  of  the 
spiritual  life.  "Why  is  it?  Why  is  it?"  he 
would  cry  out  in  despair,  as  he  sat  watching 
at  the  child's  bedside;  and,  if  the  pious  nurse 
who  shared  those  weary  vigils  with  him  trans- 
lated his  experience  into  the  terms  of  her  own 
understanding,  it  is  probable  that  her  sympa- 
thy, if  not  her  theology,  comforted  him. 

From  that  hour  on  his  tender  heart  was 
tenderer,  and  yearned  in  growing  love  over  the 
nation,  South  as  well  as  North,  and  in  a  thou- 
sand beautiful  and  pathetic  individual  in- 
stances softened  the  severities  of  that  war 
which,  by  some  strange  and  inscrutable  fate, 
this  most  peaceful  of  men  was  called  upon  to 
wage.  He  himself  expressed  a  sense  of  this 
incongruity  in  a  letter  to  a  Quaker,  when  he 
said,  "Engaged  as  I  am,  in  a  great  war,  I 

141 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

fear  it  will  be  difficult  for  the  world  to  under- 
stand how  fully  I  appreciate  the  principles  of 
peace  inculcated  in  this  letter  and  everywhere 
by  the  Society  of  Friends." 

While  this  war  was  being  fought  for  the 
Union,  the  question  of  slavery  was,  neverthe- 
less, as  every  one  knew,  at  the  bottom  of  it; 
and  Lincoln  had  early  seen  that  the  two  issues 
could  not  long  be  separated.  As  long  as  could 
be,  he  refrained  from  interference  with  the  in- 
stitution, but  the  question  arose  in  many  forms. 
Slaves  were  constantly  seeking  refuge  in 
Union  camps,  and  what  to  do  with  them  was  a 
problem  which  military  commanders  in  the 
field  dealt  with  as  their  principles  or  their 
prejudices  or  their  politics  moved  them.  Gen- 
eral Ben  Butler  held  them  as  "contraband  of 
war," — a  legal  trick  that  delighted  the  North 
and  gave  the  slaves  a  new  sobriquet;  McClel- 
lan  threatened  to  put  down  any  uprising  of  the 
blacks  with  an  "iron  hand"  he  seemed  to  reserve 
for  that  exclusive  purpose;  Halleck  sent  the 

142 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

fugitives  out  of  camp;  Buell  and  Hooker  al- 
lowed their  owners  to  take  them. 

But  abolition  sentiment  was  growing,  and 
from  press  and  pulpit  there  were  adjurations 
to  "set  the  slaves  free."  The  torrent  of  ad- 
vice, muddied  by  abuse,  poured  on  him.  With 
the  ease  with  which  those  to  whom  the  people 
have  neglected  to  delegate  the  authority  know 
how  to  exercise  it,  his  advisers  informed  him  of 
the  people's  will;  and  to  this  the  preachers,  in 
their  delegations,  added  that  it  was  the  will  of 
God.  But  he  held  his  own  counsel,  thinking 
out  a  way.  It  was  the  essence  of  his  Border 
State  policy  to  avoid  offence  to  the  people 
there,  where  slavery  made  a  problem  of  ex- 
quisite delicacy. 

On  March  6,  1862,  he  sent  a  special  message 
to  Congress,  recommending  the  adoption  of  a 
joint  resolution  that  "the  United  States  ought 
to  co-operate  with  any  state  which  may  adopt 
gradual  abolishment  of  slavery,  giving  to  such 
state  pecuniary  aid  ...  to  compensate  for  the 

US 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

inconvenience,  both  public  and  private,  pro- 
duced by  such  change  of  system."  The  resolu- 
tion was  finally  adopted,  but  the  Border  States 
would  have  none  of  it.  On  March  10  he  in- 
vited to  the  White  House  the  Congressmen 
from  those  States,  hoping  to  win  them  to  his 
view,  which  had  as  its  object  the  disposition  he 
had  held  to  since  boyhood;  namely,  gradual 
compensated  emancipation.  But  the  border 
members  were  deaf  to  his  pleadings.  Again, 
on  July  12,  he  besought  them,  but  two-thirds 
of  them  were  opposed  to  the  plan. 

In  the  midst  of  this  difficulty.  May  9,  1862, 
General  Hunter  proclaimed  martial  law  in 
Georgia,  Florida,  and  South  Carolina,  and 
"the  persons  in  these  states,  heretofore  held  as 
slaves,  .  .  .  forever  free."  Lincoln  revoked 
this  order,  as  he  had  Fremont's,  adding  firmly, 
"I  further  make  known  that,  whether  it  be 
competent  for  me  as  Commander-in-Chief  of 
the  Army  and  Navy,  to  declare  the  slaves  of 
any  state  or  states  free,  and  whether  at  any 
time,  in  any  case,  it  shall  have  become  a  neces- 

144 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

sity  indispensable  to  the  maintenance  of  gov- 
ernment to  exercise  such  supposed  power,  are 
questions  which,  under  my  responsibihty,  I 
reserve  to  myself." 

In  his  proclamation  cancelling  Hunter's  or- 
der, he  referred  again  to  the  "solemn  proposal 
of  the  nation"  of  gradual  emancipation  to  the 
Border  States,  and  added:  "To  the  people  of 
these  states  I  now  earnestly  appeal.  I  do  not 
argue;  I  beseech  you  to  make  the  arguments 
for  yourselves.  You  cannot,  if  you  would,  be 
blind  to  the  signs  of  the  times.  I  beg  of  you 
a  calm  and  enlarged  consideration  of  them, 
ranging,  if  it  may  be,  far  above  personal  and 
partisan  politics.  This  proposal  makes  com- 
mon cause  for  a  common  object,  casting  no  re- 
proaches upon  any.  It  acts  not  the  Pharisee. 
The  change  it  contemplates  would  come  as 
gently  as  the  dews  from  Heaven,  not  rending  or 
wrecking  anything.  Will  you  not  embrace  it? 
So  much  good  has  not  been  done  by  one  effort 
in  all  past  time,  as  in  the  providence  of  God 
it  is  now  your  high  privilege  to  do.     May  the 

145 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

vast  future  not  have  to  lament  that  you  have 
neglected  it!" 

The  scheme,  of  course,  was  impractical. 
Union  slaveholders  were  not  ready  to  give  up 
their  property,  and  even  the  most  radical  of 
abolitionists  were  not  ready  to  buy  them,  in 
order  to  set  them  free.  But  even  then,  as  back 
in  New  Salem,  Lincoln  was  not  a  business 
man:  he  was  a  dreamer,  a  humanitarian,  with 
a  vision  of  free  men  that  subordinated  consid- 
erations of  property. 

Then,  relinquishing  his  old  dream,  he  began 
to  think  of  emancipation.  Constantly  he  was 
urged  to  it.  Constantly  he  argued  with  his 
callers,  his  volunteer  advisers,  in  his  clever  way 
weighing  the  reasons  and  the  chances.  While 
he  travailed  in  the  agony  of  this  problem,  in 
the  midst  of  all  his  woes  there  was,  of  course, 
always  Greeley, — "Brother  Greeley,"  as  he 
called  him. 

On  August  19,  1862,  Greeley  published  in 
his  newspaper  an  address  to  the  President, 
under  the  imposing  title  of  *'The  Prayer  of 

146 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

20,000,000  of  People,"  demanding  immediate 
emancipation.  It  was  an  unfair  and  foolish 
paper,  but  if  the  editor  did  not,  as  he  imagined, 
represent  twenty  millions  of  people,  he  did  rep- 
resent the  extreme  group  of  radicals  in  the 
Republican  party,  and  they  could  make  as 
great  an  outcry  as  twenty  millions.  To  this 
paper  Lincoln  thought  fit  to  reply,  in  order  to 
explain,  not  to  Greeley, — for  that  would  have 
been  impossible, — but  to  the  people.  The  let- 
ter is  really  one  of  his  great  state  papers,  and 
it  has  been  said  that  "it  did  more  to  steady 
the  loyal  sentiment  of  the  country  in  a  very 
grave  emergency  than  anything  that  ever  came 
from  Lincoln's  pen."  Its  essence  is  found  in 
these  words :  "My  'paramount  object  is  to  save 
the  Union,  and  not  either  to  save  or  destroy 
slavery.  If  I  could  save  the  Union  without 
freeing  any  slave,  I  would  do  it.  And  if  I 
could  save  it  by  freeing  all  the  slaves,  I  would 
do  it.  And  if  I  could  save  it  by  freeing  some, 
and  leaving  others  alone,  I  would  also  do  that. 
...  I  have  here  stated  my  purpose,  according 

147 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLI^ 

to  my  view  of  official  duty,  and  I  intend  no 
modification  of  my  oft-expressed  personal 
wish,  that  all  men  everywhere  shall  be  free." 

The  spirit  and  the  sense  were  all  lost  on  the 
oblivious  Greeley,  who  retorted  with  abuse. 
But  the  abolitionists  did  not  cease  their  agita- 
tion, and  to  a  committee  of  Chicago  preachers 
that  waited  on  him  in  September,  to  reveal  to 
him  the  will  of  God,  Lincoln  said: — 

"If  it  is  probable  that  God  would  reveal  His 
will  to  others  on  a  point  so  connected  with  my 
duty,  it  might  be  supposed  He  would  reveal  it 
directly  to  me.  .  .  .  These  are  not,  however, 
the  days  of  miracles,  and  I  suppose  it  will  be 
granted  that  I  am  not  to  expect  a  direct  revela- 
tion. I  must  study  the  plain  physical  facts 
of  the  case,  ascertain  what  is  possible,  and 
learn  what  appears  to  be  wise  and  right." 

And  he  continued: — 

"What  good  would  a  proclamation  of  eman- 
cipation from  me  do,  especially  as  we  are  now 
situated?  I  do  not  want  to  issue  a  document 
that  the  whole  world  will  see  must  necessarily 

148 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

be  inoperative,  like  the  Pope's  bull  against  the 
comet." 

Meanwhile,  at  Major  Eckert's  desk  in  the 
cipher-room  of  the  War  Department  telegraph 
office,  this  silent,  self-reliant  man,  without  in- 
timates, without  friends,  who  bore  almost  alone 
on  his  mighty  shoulders  the  burden  of  the  na- 
tion's war,  had  been  w^riting  the  Emancipa- 
tion Proclamation.  It  was  thus  that  he  w^as 
accustomed  to  spend  such  moments  of  respite 
as  he  could  snatch  from  the  never-ending 
stream  of  tormentors  in  the  White  House, — 
the  office-seekers,  politicians,  and  volunteers  of 
sage  advice.  Ever  since  June,  shortly  after 
McClellan's  terrible  "Seven  Days'  Figlit,"  he 
had  been  sitting  at  that  desk,  deep  in  thought, 
now  gazing  out  the  w^indow  at  a  colony  of 
spiders,  now  v/riting  a  few  sentences.  All 
these  months  he  had  been  at  work,  with  his 
slow  but  accurate  thought  and  slow  and  clear 
writing,  preparing  the  most  momentous  docu- 
ment in  American  history  since  Thomas  Jef- 
ferson had  written  the  Declaration.     No  one 

149 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

knew  what  he  was  writing:  his  cabinet  had  no 
notion.  He  was  waiting  for  the  right  time, 
waiting  for  a  victory. 

He  waited  long,  in  his  great  patience  and  his 
great  anguish.  Far  back  in  April  he  had  writ- 
ten McClellan:  "Your  dispatches  complain- 
ing that  you  are  not  properly  sustained,  while 
they  do  not  offend  me,  do  pain  me  very  much. 
.  .  .  The  country  will  not  fail  to  note,  is  now 
noting,  that  the  present  hesitation  to  move 
upon  an  intrenched  enemy  is  but  the  story  of 
Manassas  repeated.  I  beg  to  assure  you  that 
I  have  never  written  you  or  spoken  to  you  in 
greater  kindness  of  feeling  than  now,  nor  with 
a  fuller  purpose  to  sustain  you  so  far  as,  in 
my  more  anxious  judgment,  I  consistently  can. 
But  you  must  act."  In  May,  sick  of  waiting, 
he  had  wired,  "Is  anything  to  be  done?" 
Then,  when  the  cautious  "Little  Mac"  was 
ready,  at  last,  the  enemy  had  abandoned  the 
intrenchments.  He  advanced,  fighting,  all  the 
while  demanding  reinforcements,  which  caused 
Lincoln  to  remark  that  "sending  troops  to  Mc- 

150 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

Clellan  is  like  shovelling  fleas  across  a  barn- 
yard." He  had  waited,  the  only  friend  Mc- 
Clellan  had  left  in  Washington,  and  the  one 
INIcClellan  most  flouted  and  contemned,  un- 
til August,  when  IVIcClellan's  campaign  ended 
in  fiasco,  and  the  movement  on  Richmond  was 
abandoned.  It  was  a  disaster  which  deepened 
the  careworn  aspect  of  that  sad  countenance, 
but  still  alone  in  his  mighty  trial  he  struggled 
on.  Halleck  and  Pope  were  tried;  and  the 
defeats  at  Cedar  Mountain  and  the  second 
battle  of  Bull  Run  were  the  result.  Then,  at 
last,  on  September  17  McClellan  fought  and 
won  the  battle  of  Antietam.  It  was  not  so 
great  a  victory,  nor  did  INIcClellan  press  Lee 
after  it  had  been  won,  but  it  could  be  called  a 
victory;  and  Lincoln  felt  it  might  serve  to  in- 
dicate the  moment  for  which,  almost  supersti- 
tiously,  he  had  been  waiting. 

About  the  end  of  July  he  had  told  his  cabinet 
of  his  determination  to  issue  the  proclamation. 
He  had  told  them  that  he  did  not  desire  them 
to  offer  any  advice, — he  had  so  much  advice! 

151 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

— but  that  they  might  make  suggestions  as  to 
details.  They  had  been  naturally  silent.  He 
had  the  news  from  Antietam  at  the  Soldiers' 
Home,  where  he  lived  in  the  summer,  and  driv- 
ing into  Washington  on  Saturday,  September 
20,  he  called  his  cabinet  together.  To  Stau- 
ton's  undisguised  disgust,  he  first  read  to  them 
from  Artemus  Ward,  on  the  "Highhanded 
Outrage  at  Utica,"  had  his  laugh,  as  did  the 
cabinet,  "except  Stanton,  of  course,"  and  then, 
growing  solemn,  he  read  the  Proclamation. 
It  was  preliminary  only,  and  did  not  promise 
universal  emancipation;  he  still  must  save  the 
Border  States.  It  proclaimed  that  on  Jan- 
uary 1,  18G3,  "all  persons  held  as  slaves  within 
any  state  or  designated  part  of  a  state,  the 
people  whereof  shall  then  be  in  rebellion 
against  the  United  States,  shall  be  then, 
thenceforward,  and  forever,  free";  and  that 
"the  Executive  will,  on  the  first  day  of  Jan- 
uary  aforesaid,  by  proclamation,  designate  the 
states  and  part  of  states,  if  any,  in  which  the 

152 


ABRAHMi  LINCOLN 

people  thereof  respectively  shall  then  be  in 
rebellion  against  the  United  States." 

It  was  all  his  own.  "I  must  do  the  best 
I  can,"  he  said,  "and  bear  the  responsibility  of 
taking  the  course  which  I  feel  I  ought  to  take." 
The  proclamation  was  published  on  September 
22. 

He  had  kept  his  secret  well,  and  the  country 
was  taken  by  surprise.  The  act  was,  though 
not  wholly  or  heartily,  sustained  by  the  people 
and  by  Congress,  though  the  radical  abolition- 
ists even  then  were  not  satisfied;  they  com- 
plained that  he  had  been  "forced"  to  do  it,  or 
had  "drifted  with  events,"  or  some  such  thing. 

Then  came  the  fall  elections,  with  such  Re- 
publican losses  in  the  Northern  States  that 
Congress  would  have  been  lost  to  the  adminis- 
tration, had  it  not  been  for  gains  in  the  West 
and  in  the  Border  States,  and  the  prospect 
deepened  in  gloom  with  the  approach  of  win- 
ter. As  a  result  of  these  reverses  at  the  polls 
— so  discouraging  that  Greeley,  with  his  un- 

153 


ABRAHAJVI  LINCOLN 

erring  instinct  for  the  wrong  thing,  was  favour- 
ing foreign  intervention — there  were  dissen- 
sions in  the  cabinet  and  the  party,  and  these  led 
Seward  to  tender  his  resignation.  Lincohi 
held  it  until  he  could  secure  also  the  resignation 
of  Chase,  and  then  remarking,  "Now  I  can  ride ; 
I  have  a  pumpkin  in  each  end  of  my  bag,"  he 
got  both  secretaries  to  reconsider  and  with- 
draw their  resignations,  and  avoided  a  cabinet 
crisis. 

On  Congress  he  once  more  urged  his  old 
policy  of  gradual  compensated  emancipation. 
**Fellow  citizens,"  he  wrote,  "we  cannot  escape 
history.  We  of  this  Congress  and  this  admin- 
istration shall  be  remembered  in  spite  of  our- 
selves. No  personal  significance  or  insignifi- 
cance can  spare  one  or  another  of  us.  The 
fiery  trial  through  which  we  pass  will  light 
us  down,  in  honour  or  dishonour,  to  the  latest 
generation.  We  say  we  are  for  the  Union. 
The  world  will  not  forget  that  we  say  this. 
We  know  how  to  save  the  Union.  The  world 
knows  we  know  how  to  save  it.    We — even 

154 


ABRAHA]\i  LINCOLN 

we  here — hold  the  power  and  bear  the  responsi- 
bihty.  In  giving  freedom  to  the  slave,  we  as- 
sure freedom  to  the  free — honourable  alike  in 
what  we  give  and  what  we  preserve.  We  shall 
nobly  save,  or  meanly  lose,  the  last  best  hope 
of  earth.  Other  means  may  succeed;  this 
could  not  fail.  The  way  is  plain,  peaceful, 
generous,  just — a  way  which,  if  followed,  the 
world  will  forever  applaud,  and  God  must  for- 
ever bless." 

But  they  were  not  to  be  persuaded.  And  the 
lonely  man  in  the  White  House,  with  eyes  more 
deeply  sunken,  bronzed  face  ashen  and  deeply 
furrowed,  tall  form  bent,  went  about  his  duty, 
asking  help  nor  counsel  of  any  one.  "I  need 
successes  more  than  I  need  sympathy,"  he  said. 

On  New  Year's  Day,  1863,  after  the  great 
public  reception  was  over,  Lincoln,  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  afternoon,  signed  the  final  Proclama- 
tion of  Emancipation.  His  hand  was  swollen 
from  shaking  the  hands  of  the  long  line  that 
had  passed  through  the  East  Room,  and  he 
remarked  to  Seward,  when  he  had  dipped  his 

155 


ABRAHAJM  LINCOLN 

pen  and  was  holding  it  over  the  broad  sheet 
spread  out  before  him  on  the  cabinet  table: 
*'If  they  find  my  hand  trembled,  they  will  say, 
*he  had  some  compmiction.'  But,  anyway,  it 
is  going  to  be  done!"  Then  slowly  and  care- 
fully he  wrote  his  name.  "If  my  name  is  ever 
remembered,"  he  said,  "it  will  be  for  this  act, 
and  my  whole  soul  is  in  it." 

If  the  radical  abolitionists  could  still  find 
cause  for  complaint  in  the  fact  that  he  had 
signed  it  in  the  afternoon  instead  of  the  morn- 
ing,  and  if  the  country  could  divide  over  the 
constitutionahty  of  the  measure  and  resume  the 
ridicule  and  abuse  which  are  the  right  of  the 
Republic, — for  many  dreary,  anxious  months 
were  to  elapse  before  events  justified  the  act, 
— it  was  well  received  by  the  people,  if  not  by 
the  government,  of  England.  The  sailing  of 
the  privateer  Alabama,  which  the  British  gov- 
ernment permitted  or  did  not  prevent,  not- 
withstanding American  protests,  proved  al- 
most, if  nqt  quite,  as  serious  as  the  earlier  in- 
cident of  the  Trent,  and  strained  the  feeling 

156 


ABHAHAJM  LINCOLN 

between  the  two  countries ;  and  the  embarrass- 
ment at  their  own  failure  did  not  improve  the 
temper  of  the  British  ministers.  The  govern- 
ment might  perhaps  have  recognised  the  Con- 
federacy if  it  could  have  found  excuse,  and  the 
starving  cotton-mill  workers  in  Lancashire, 
idle  because  of  the  Northern  blockade  of 
Southern  ports,  could  have  furnished  the  ex- 
cuse. But  English  Radicalism,  led  by  Cob- 
den  and  Bright,  knew  that  the  cause  which 
Lincoln  was  representing  was  their  cause, — 
the  cause  of  the  people,  and  of  labour  through- 
out the  world;  and  it  was  a  splendid  and  in- 
spiring proof  of  the  solidarity  of  labour  that 
six  thousand  men  at  Manchester  sent  the  Presi- 
dent an  address  congratulating  and  encourag- 
ing him.  In  his  grateful  acknowledgment, 
Lincoln  referred  to  the  act  of  the  men  of  Lan- 
cashire as,  under  the  circumstances  of  their 
suffering,  "an  instance  of  Christian  heroism 
which  had  not  been  surpassed  in  any  age  or  in 
any  country."  Similar  meetings  were  held  in 
London  and  Sheffield,  and  a  notable  one  by 

157 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

the  Trades  Unions  at  St.  James's  Hall  in 
March 

Thus,  if  governments  and  principalities  and 
powers  and  the  great  and  strong  and  power- 
ful of  the  earth  were  sneering  in  opposition,  the 
great  heart  of  the  people  everywhere  was  with 
him  who  bore  their  cause  so  bravely ;  and  when, 
a  few  years  later,  those  British  mechanics  gave 
their  pennies  to  erect  a  modest  monument  to 
his  memory,  they  erected,  perhaps,  the  most 
beautiful  and  significant  memorial  ever  given 
him,  when  they  inscribed  on  it  his  name  as  a 
"Lover  of  Humanity." 


158 


After  Antietam,  Lincoln  came  as  near  to 
losing  patience  with  McClellan  as  he  ever  came 
with  any  one;  but  he  wrote  him  another  kind 
letter  about  what  he  considerately  called  "over- 
cautiousness,"  and  finally,  long  after  every  one 
had  lost  faith,  relieved  him  of  his  command  and 
devolved  it  on  Burnside.  The  result  was  an- 
other failure.  On  December  13,  1862,  Lee 
defeated  Burnside  at  Fredericksburg.  All 
day  Lincoln  had  been  in  the  telegraph  office,  in 
dressing-gown  and  slippers,  forgetting  even  to 
eat,  and,  when  at  night  the  dreadful  news  came, 
— more  than  ten  thousand  dead  and  wounded, 
— he  was  close  on  despair:  ''If  there  is  any 
man  out  of  perdition  who  suffers  more  than  I 
do,"  he  said,  "I  pity  him." 

Then  on  January  26,  1863,  he  put  "Fight- 
ing Joe"  Hooker  in  Burnside's  place,  writing 
him:     "I  have  heard,  in  such  way  as  to  believe 

159 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

it,  of  your  recently  saying  that  both  the  army 
and  the  government  need  a  dictator.  Of 
course,  it  was  not  for  this,  but  in  spite  of  it, 
that  I  have  given  you  the  command.  Only 
those  generals  who  gain  successes  can  set  up  as 
dictators.  What  I  now  ask  of  you  is  military 
success,  and  I  will  risk  the  dictatorship." 
Hooker  read  the  letter  with  tears  in  his  eyes. 
But  that  splendid  army,  too,  was  to  meet  de- 
feat. Hooker,  though  a  good  lieutenant,  was 
a  poor  chief,  and  when.  May  2,  he  met  Lee  at 
Chancellorsville,  "though  the  Federals  fought 
like  devils,"  he  was  beaten  in  a  bloody  battle. 
When  the  wires  bore  the  news  to  Lincoln,  his 
face  went  ghastly  grey,  and,  with  hands  clasped 
behind  his  back,  he  paced  the  floor,  saying  pite- 
ously :  *']^Iy  God !  My  God !  What  will  the 
country  say!    What  will  the  country  say!" 

But  he  put  all  this  behind  him,  and  fixed  his 
sad  eyes,  sinking  deeper  and  deeper  into  their 
caverns,  on  the  future.  In  the  telegraph  office 
he  began  to  ask:  "Where's  Meade?  What's 
the  Fifth  Corps  doing?"     And  when  Hooker, 

160 


ABRAHAjM  LINCOLN 

angry  with  Halleck,  resigned,  he  appointed 
Meade  in  his  place.  On  July  1  the  armies  of 
Meade  and  Lee  grappled  in  a  death  struggle 
at  Gettysburg.  Those  three  terrible  days  Lin- 
coln was  in  the  telegraph  office,  anxiously  lean- 
ing over  the  shoulder  of  the  operator  who  re- 
ceived the  story, — Cemetery  Ridge,  Little 
Round  Top,  Culp's  Hill,  and,  at  last,  the  mag- 
nificent, forlorn  charge  of  Pickett.  Then  his 
hopes  rose.  He  knew  that  Meade  had  won  a 
notable  victory.  And  yet  Meade,  too,  like 
McClellan  after  Antietam,  failed  to  pursue, 
and  Lee  got  away  across  the  Potomac.  Lin- 
coln felt  this  failure  deeply.  He  had  always 
believed  that,  if  Lee  crossed  the  Potomac,  his 
army  could  be  destroyed  and  the  war  ended. 
Now  the  failure  to  reap  all  the  fruits  of  the 
noble  victory,  bought  at  such  an  awful  price 
of  human  life,  would  indefinitely  prolong  the 
war. 

But,  when  he  received  Grant's  despatch  an- 
nouncing the  fall  of  Vicksburg,  his  spirits  rose 
with    the   nation's    spirits,    and    he    issued    a 

161 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

proclamation,  one  of  that  series  he  wrote,  in 
the  solemn  style  of  the  old  prophets,  often  in 
sorrow  appointing  days  of  "fasting  and 
prayer,"  now  for  the  second  time,  in  gladness, 
naming  August  6  as  "a  day  for  National 
Thanksgiving,  praise  and  prayer." 

These  victories,  in  the  East  and  in  the  West, 
falling  by  a  striking  coincidence  on  the  day 
in  the  spirit  of  which  the  war  was  being  car- 
ried on,  brought  him  encouragement  when  he 
was  in  need  of  encouragement.  The  times  had 
been  full  of  embarrassment;  volunteer  enlist- 
ments had  ceased,  he  had  been  obliged  to  re- 
sort to  the  hateful  draft,  and  this,  in  July,  had 
brought  on  riots  in  New  York.  Then  there 
were  the  "Copperheads,"  and  the  "Knights  of 
the  Golden  Circle,"  with  their  secret  oaths,  and 
Vallandigham,  court-martialed  for  treason  and 
sentenced  to  imprisonment.     Lincoln, 

"slow  to  smite  and  swift  to  spare," 

was  not  much  concerned  over  the  Copperheads, 
and  he  disposed  of  all  the  arguments  about 

162 


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y//f//  z/z/u/  //'/f/^j^/fMy/i'//  /f//f,  /f/fm/^f'/iM/yr//i;///ZJ^^^ 
///>///  /My/yy  //*  //zmyy  Z^y/y//f/rZ. 

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j€fu  A/^/r  m/y/y///iyfyi^yA/m4^/y/'Za^  /////  Az/^ 

,yA/jA//y/4m/^^//f'f/uy^ 
y////z/i/jA/// //f^/Z  //'/f/rA  Mm y/A/^/myAf  //z/yA//m  /^//./A/r' 
j^  /M/i!^m  yt/Aw/i/f//. 

^A/jyff/Ayy/</y  //J  A>  Af  //^/z'  ///yA/A//zz/ //^  ////  ///r/rA///yA 
ymm/iA//Ayf  ArMZ€yzj-//f///^//f^//f  AAfyj//f////<yfY//Ayf///>/  A/Av 
A/fr/w/jm^Ai¥^A/t^^A^/A//Ar///j:f('A////AfAA^  /A/y  A/'M'  ////fr  /Az  //o/A//A 
///^oiMzmy^yA^iY^m  ~  AA<yfAy/^Ay/r/tAiA>A/  //jzAf  /Au////z:ji^  /AmA 
jmi^m^/M/^  //AzAyA  w/m;  AAy// AAf/j /tA/A^^  ///f/Ar/  .O/^A^/mAi^ 
yna^m/^  yf/'//'  /^/M  z^ //¥¥!fAy/i:  ///u/ /A// A///f/^/// ////// //^/AA/'Az/^/^i 
A/AAy^/^A/yA/yA^yAhy//^/i^:jAf//AA/fz//^  /A//'yaym: 

2^//fr<///i  //A    /^A/u.m//// 


ABRAHAJM  LINCOLN 

Vallandigham  by  saying,  "Must  I  shoot  a 
simple-minded  soldier  boy  who  deserts,  while 
I  must  not  touch  a  hair  of  a  wily  agitator  who 
induces  him  to  desert?"  And  then  (with  a 
humorous  chuckle,  no  doubt)  he  modified  the 
sentence,  and  ordered  Vallandigham  to  be  con- 
ducted within  the  Confederate  lines. 

But  Gettysburg  and  Vicksburg  turned  the 
tide;  and  in  good  spirits  he  summed  up  the 
situation  in  a  letter  to  friends  in  Springfield, 
which  must  have  sounded  pleasantly  familiar 
to  the  old  neighbours  he  would  have  liked  so 
much  to  visit  once  more :  "The  signs  look  bet- 
ter. The  Father  of  Waters  rolls  unvexed  to 
the  sea.  ...  It  is  hard  to  say  that  anything 
has  been  more  bravely  and  well  done  than  at 
Antietam,  Murfreesboro',  Gettysburg,  and  on 
many  fields  of  lesser  note.  .  .  .  Peace  does  not 
appear  so  distant  as  it  did.  I  hope  it  will 
come  soon,  and  come  to  stay;  and  so  come  as 
to  be  worth  the  keeping  in  all  future  time. 
.  .  .  Still,  let  us  not  be  oversanguine  of  a 
speedy  final  triumph.     Let  us  be  quite  sober, 

163 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

let  us  diligently  apply  the  means,  never  doubt- 
ing that  a  just  God,  in  his  own  good  time,  will 
give  us  the  rightful  result." 

The  letter,  passing  suddenly  from  gay  to 
grave,  was  characteristic.  He  was  not  always 
sad.  Not  a  day  passed,  not  the  darkest  hour, 
that  he  did  not  have  his  joke  or  tell  his  story. 
This  habit  distressed  the  literal  Seward,  the 
irascible  Stanton,  and  others;  and  yet  when 
Congressman  Ashley  said  severely,  "Mr.  Presi- 
dent, I  didn't  come  in  here  this  morning  to 
hear  stories :  it  is  too  serious,"  the  light  died  out 
of  the  sensitive  face  as  he  said,  *Tf  it  were  not 
for  this  occasional  vent,  I  should  die."  He 
liked,  as  we  have  seen,  the  humour  of  Artemus 
Ward,  of  Orpheus  C.  Kerr,  and  of  "Petroleum 
V.  Nasby,"  though  he  was  not  a  great  reader. 
Herndon  says  he  "read  less  and  thought  more 
than  any  man  who  ever  lived."  But  he  had 
favourites, — Burns,  whose  point  of  view  was 
like  his  own,  and  Byron  and  Bacon.  The 
lines,  "Oh,  why  should  the  spirit  of  mortal 
be  proud?"  he  had  loved  ever  since  they  had 

164 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

been  associated  in  his  mind  with  Anne  Rut- 
ledge,  and  he  liked  to  recite  Shakespeare, 
though  in  his  writings  he  quoted  little.  He 
was  fond  of  the  theatre,  and  sometimes  went 
to  the  play,  sometimes  to  concerts.  He  was 
delighted  with  the  acting  of  James  H. 
Hackett,  and  wrote  him,  after  a  friendliness 
had  sprung  up  between  them:  "For  one  of 
my  age  I  have  seen  very  little  of  the  drama. 
I  think  nothing  equals  Macbeth;  it  is  wonder- 
ful." When  the  letter  got  into  print,  and  cer- 
tain of  the  elect  sneered  at  him,  he  wrote: 
"Those  comments  constitute  a  fair  specimen 
of  what  has  occurred  to  me  through  life.  I 
have  endured  a  great  deal  of  ridicule  without 
much  malice;  and  have  received  a  great  deal 
of  kindness  not  quite  free  from  ridicule.  I  am 
used  to  it." 

As  he  went  about  the  White  House,  in  the 
telegraph  office,  out  at  the  Soldiers'  Home, 
even  on  trips  to  headquarters  at  the  front.  Tad 
was  usually  with  him.  He  would  sit  in  his  lap 
or  hang  on  his  chair  even  while  the  President  re- 

165 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

ceived  important  callers,  and  we  have  intimate 
pictmxs  of  him,  late  in  the  evening,  when,  worn 
by  the  trials  each  day  brought  in  abundance, 
he  would  lift  the  sleepy  boy  in  his  great  arms 
and  bear  him  off  to  bed.  "All  well,  including 
Tad's  pony  and  the  goats,"  he  wired  Mrs.  Lin- 
coln at  Manchester,  Vermont,  and  later  he 
found  time  to  send  this  intelligence:  "Tell 
dear  Tad  poor  Nanny  goat  is  lost.  .  .  .  The 
day  you  left  Nanny  was  found  resting  herself 
and  chewing  her  little  cud  on  the  middle  of 
Tad's  bed,  but  now  she's  gone."  With  this 
parental  love  there  was  the  parental  concern, 
and  in  him  there  was  an  occult  strain  that  ex- 
pressed itself  in  little  superstitions.  He  was, 
for  instance,  curiously  affected  by  dreams, 
which  at  times  became  portents  and  omens  to 
him.  Thus  in  June,  1863,  he  wired  to  Mrs. 
Lincoln  at  Philadelphia:  "Think  you  had 
better  put  Tad's  pistol  away.  I  had  an  ugly 
dream  about  him."  The  tremendous  strain 
was  wearing  on  his  nerves.  His  health  had 
suffered ;  under  his  mighty  burden  he  was  tired, 

166 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

and  he  slept  badly,  especially  at  the  White 
House.  Because  of  the  callers — who  of  course 
asked  "only  a  minute"  of  his  time,  which  meant, 
as  he  explained,  that,  if  he  could  hear  and 
grant  the  request  in  that  time,  a  minute  would 
suffice — and  because  of  the  long  weary  nights 
in  the  War  Office,  hanging  intently  on  the 
next  click  of  the  telegraph,  regular  hours  were 
impossible.  He  ate  little, — a  glass  of  milk  and 
biscuit  or  some  fruit  at  luncheon;  and  though 
he  dined  at  six,  as  he  told  Mrs.  Stowe,  he  "just 
browsed  round  a  little  now  and  then." 

Much  of  his  time  was  spent  in  the  telegraph 
office.  There,  when  he  was  not  looking  over 
despatches  or  writing  them,  or  studying  war 
maps,  he  would  chat  with  the  operators,  or 
perhaps  only  lean  back  in  his  chair,  with  his 
long  legs  stretched  to  a  table,  and  gaze  moodily 
out  into  Pennsylvania  Avenue.  The  soldiers 
almost  individually  he  had  on  his  heart  with  a 
love  that  was  personal.  The  long  list  of  the 
telegrams  he  sent  from  that  office  are  but  a 
beautiful  repetition  of  pardon  and  forgive- 

167 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

ness.  One  finds  orders  to  commanders  in  the 
iield  to  postpone  the  executions  of  death  sen- 
tences pronounced  on  deserters, — precious 
fruits  of  that  day's  audience  at  the  White 
House.  He  knew  how  those  boys  at  the  front 
suffered  from  homesickness.  He  had,  indeed, 
at  his  own  heart,  all  his  life,  a  pain  not  unlike 
nostalgia, — the  pain  that  comes  of  the  knowl- 
edge of  life  and  of  the  suffering  men  make  for 
their  brothers  in  the  world,  a  pain  that  filled 
him  with  a  vast  and  tender  pity.  "Will  you 
please  hurry  off  the  above?  To-morrow  is  the 
day  of  execution,"  he  frequently  wrote  to 
Major  Eckert  in  transmitting  such  despatches. 
And  he  took  infinite  pains  to  seek  out,  in  all 
those  vast  armies,  some  hapless  individual  of 
whom  he  had  imperfectly  heard.     *'If  there  is 

a  man  by  the  name  of  K under  sentence  to 

be  shot,  please  suspend  execution  until  further 
orders,  and  send  record,"  he  wired  to  Meade, 
and  similarly  to  other  generals. 

"But  that  does  not  pardon  my  boy,"  a  father 

168 


ABRAHAJSI  LINCOLN 

said  to  him  one  day,  in  disappointment  at  what 
seemed  to  him  a  mere  postponement. 

"My  dear  man,"  Lincoln  rephed,  "do  you 
suppose  I  will  ever  give  orders  for  your  boy's 
execution?" 

He  was  constantly  visiting  the  hospitals,  and 
just  a  week  before  his  assassination,  as  he  was 
about  to  enter  a  ward  occupied  by  sick  and 
wounded  prisoners,  the  attendant  said,  "Mr. 
President,  you  won't  want  to  go  in  there :  they 
are  only  rebels."  He  laid  his  hand  on  the  at- 
tendant's shoulder,  and  said,  "You  mean  Con- 
federates" and  went  on  in.  Such  was  the  more 
than  paternal  love  and  tenderness  that  brooded 
in  his  great  heart.  No  wonder  the  soldiers 
called  him  "Father  Abraham,"  and  the  South, 
in  after  years,  learned  that  it  had  lost  its  best 
friend. 

Thus,  through  trial  and  sorrow  and  disap- 
pointment, under  the  most  tremendous  respon- 
sibility that  ever  weighted  a  leader,  he  came 
to  that  great  character  which  made  him  wholly 

169 


ABRAHAIVI  LINCOLN 

and  completely  a  Man.  They  sneered  at  him 
for  his  lack  of  education,  and  yet  he  might 
have  been  said  to  be  almost  perfectly  educated. 
Certainly  he  was  cultured ;  for  had  he  not  wis- 
dom, pity,  love,  humour,  shrewdness,  and  a 
rarely  sympathetic  imagination,  that  enabled 
him  to  put  himself  in  every  other  man's  place? 
These  qualities,  with  what  is  denoted  by  the 
phrase  "common  sense,"  though  in  him,  surely, 
it  was  rather  an  uncommon  sense,  combined  in 
perfect  equilibrium  to  make  him  the  ideal 
American.  He  came  to  fullest  expression, 
perhaps,  in  the  beautiful  address  at  the  dedica- 
tion of  the  National  Cemetery  on  the  battle- 
field of  Gettysburg,  November  19,  1863.  Ed- 
ward Everett  delivered  the  formal  oration,  and 
then  Lincoln,  having  been  asked  to  make  a 
*'few  appropriate  remarks,"  arose,  and  "in  an 
unconscious  and  absorbed  manner"  slowly  put 
on  his  spectacles  and  read  the  immortal  words. 
Those  who  heard  were  disappointed.  Seward 
and  others  thought  he  had  not  proved  equal  to 
the  occasion,  and  were  glad  that  Everett  had 

170 


J 


ABRAHAINI  LINCOLN 

been  there  to  save  the  day.  Everett's  ora- 
tion is  neglected,  if  not  forgotten,  but  hterature 
will  imperishably  preserve  these  noble  lines: — 
"Fourscore  and  seven  years  ago  our  fathers 
brought  forth  on  this  continent  a  new  nation, 
conceived  in  liberty,  and  dedicated  to  the  prop- 
osition that  all  men  are  created  equal.  Now 
we  are  engaged  in  a  great  civil  war,  testing 
whether  that  nation,  or  any  nation  so  conceived 
and  so  dedicated,  can  long  endure.  We  are 
met  upon  a  great  battlefield  of  that  war.  We 
have  come  to  dedicate  a  portion  of  that  field  as 
a  final  resting  place  for  those  who  here  gave 
their  lives  that  that  nation  might  live.  It  is 
altogether  fitting  and  proper  that  we  should  do 
this.  But  in  a  larger  sense,  we  cannot  dedi- 
cate, we  cannot  consecrate,  we  cannot  hallow 
this  ground.  The  brave  men,  living  and  dead, 
who  struggled  here,  have  consecrated  it  far 
above  our  poor  power  to  add  or  detract.  The 
world  will  little  note,  nor  long  remember,  what 
we  say  here ;  but  it  can  never  forget  what  they 
did  here.     It  is  for  us,  the  living,  rather  to  be 

171 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

dedicated  here  to  the  unfinished  work  which 
they  who  fought  here  have  thus  far  so  nobly 
advanced.  It  is  rather  for  us  to  be  here  dedi- 
cated to  the  great  task  remaining  before  us; 
—that  from  these  honoured  dead,  we  take  in- 
creased devotion  to  that  cause  for  which  they 
gave  the  last  full  measure  of  devotion; — ^that 
we  here  highly  resolve  that  these  dead  shall 
not  have  died  in  vain,  that  this  nation,  under 
God,  shall  have  a  new  birth  of  freedom,  and 
that  government  of  the  people,  by  the  people, 
for  the  people,  shall  not  perish  from  the  earth." 
The  tide  had  turned,  but  more  than  eighteen 
weary  months  were  to  pass  before  it  would  be 
at  the  flood  of  victory.  Lincoln  was  spending 
anxious  hours  in  the  War  Office,  his  attention 
just  then  focussed  on  the  maps  of  south-east- 
ern Tennessee.  He  was  trying  to  force  Burn- 
side  to  unite  with  Rosecrans,  and  move  on 
Bragg.  Burnside  got  to  Knoxville  and 
halted.  On  September  19,  without  waiting 
longer,  Rosecrans  had  to  give  battle,  and  the 
armies  clashed  stubbornly  on  the  field  of  Chick- 

172 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

amauga.  After  two  days  of  fiercest  fighting, 
Rosecrans  withdrew,  and  the  battle  would  have 
been  a  Confederate  victory  but  for  Thomas, 
who  held  the  Federal  left  and  earned  his  name 
of  "The  Rock  of  Chickamauga."  Thomas 
covered  Rosecrans's  withdrawal  to  Chatta- 
nooga, where,  though  demoralised,  he  found  he 
had  not  been  so  badly  worsted  as  he  had 
thought.  Lincoln  telegraphed  to  him:  "Be 
of  good  cheer,  we  have  unstinted  confidence  in 
you.  .  .  .  We  shall  do  our  utmost  to  assist 
you."  And  he  did  his  utmost.  He  pricked 
Burnside  forward,  ordered  Sherman  up,  and, 
when  Rosecrans's  alarms  came  to  him  at  the 
Soldiers'  Home,  he  rode  to  Washington  by 
moonlight,  and  there  in  the  War  Ofiice  was 
devised  the  remarkable  plan  of  transporting 
by  rail  the  Eleventh  and  Twelfth  Corps  under 
Hooker.  In  twelve  days  these  veterans  from 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac  were  at  Chattanooga. 
Wisest  act  of  all,  he  put  Thomas  in  Rose- 
crans's place,  and  Grant  in  command  of  the 
military  division  of  the  Mississippi.     Grant 

173 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

came,  and,  with  Sherman,  Thomas,  Sheridan, 
and  Hooker  under  him,  on  November  24  and 
25  fought  and  won  the  battles  of  Lookout 
JMountain  and  Missionary  Ridge.  Thus  East 
Tennessee  was  cleared  of  Confederate  occu- 
pation, and  its  loyal  inhabitants  freed  from 
their  long  thraldom.  The  President  had  good 
reason  now  to  issue  his  third  proclamation  of 
National  Thanksgiving.  The  document,  in  its 
high  and  solemn  style,  breathes  his  own  spirit : 
"No  human  counsel  hath  devised,  nor  hath  any 
mortal  hand  worked  out  these  great  things. 
They  are  the  gracious  gifts  of  the  most  high 
God,  who,  while  dealing  with  us  in  anger  for 
our  sins,  hath,  nevertheless,  remembered 
mercy."  Nor  could  his  pity  forget  "all  those 
who  have  become  widows,  orphans,  mourners 
or  sufferers  in  this  lamentable  civil  strife." 

Meade,  no  nearer  Richmond  than  ever,  had 
gone  into  winter  quarters,  and  now  for  a  while 
Lincoln  was  to  be  burdened  more  with  politics 
than  with  war.  On  December  8,  1863,  he  sent 
to  Congress  his  third  annual  message,  which 

174 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

surprised  every  one  by  its  "Proclamation  of 
Amnesty."  The  proposed  amnesty,  offered 
in  his  own  concihatory  spirit,  was  to  be  em- 
braced on  taking  an  oath  to  "support,  protect 
and  defend"  the  Constitution  and  the  Union. 
At  first  the  proclamation  was  received  in  good 
temper,  but  soon  this  changed.  The  politi- 
cians were  jealous  of  the  legislative  preroga- 
tive, and  were  incapable  of  the  forgiving  spirit 
of  Lincoln.  They  still  hated  the  "rebels/'  as 
they  called  the  Southerners  who  were  trying 
so  hard  to  secede,  though  Lincoln  seldom  called 
them  that.  And  even  those  who  could  put 
away  revenge  felt  that  it  was  unsafe  to  restore 
to  the  Southerners  all  rights  of  citizenship 
upon  mere  protestation  of  loyalty.  The  ques- 
tion, too,  was  involved  in  many  difficulties, 
among  them  the  granting  of  suffrage  to  the 
negroes,  in  which,  by  the  way,  if  at  all,  Lin- 
coln believed  only  to  a  limited  extent.  Con- 
gress took  up  the  subject  in  fiery  spirit,  and 
eventually  passed  a  bill  which  was  much  more 
exacting  than  the  President's,  and  beyond  that 

175 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

retained  in  the  x^ower  of  Congress  tlie  whole 
execution  of  the  pohcy  of  reconstruction.  Of  i 
this  bill  Lincoln  could  not  approve,  and  it  thus 
may  be  said  to  have  inaugurated  that  unfor- 
tunate policy  which  inflamed  the  wounds  al- 
ready made,  and  which,  conceived  in  hatred, 
under  the  great  law  of  moral  equivalents  pro- 
duced its  ugly  results  of  hatred  long  after  he 
was  gone, — a  policy  that  would  have  been  so 
wisely  otherwise,  had  he  lived  to  imbue  it  with 
his  great  spirit!  But  in  these  troubles  he  had 
consolation.  At  last,  in  Grant,  whom  he  had 
been  watching  ever  since  Donelson,  he  had 
found  a  general.  Congress  created  the  grade 
of  lieutenant-general, — a  rank  not  held  by  any 
one  since  Washington,  save  Scott,  and  then 
only  by  brevet, — and  on  March  3,  1864,  Lin- 
coln gave  Grant  his  commission  and  placed 
him  in  command  of  all  the  armies.  A  few  days 
later  Grant  arrived  in  Washington,  and  these 
two  Westerners  met  for  the  first  time.  The 
President  looked  at  the  square  jaw,  the  de- 
termined face,  and  knew  that  he  had  found  his 

176 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

man.  Grant,  his  headquarters  with  the  Army 
of  the  Potomac,  started  on  that  long  and  ter- 
rible campaign  which  was  to  end  only  with 
the  fall  of  Richmond.  *'The  particulars  of 
your  plan  I  neither  loiow  nor  seek  to  know," 
Lincoln  wrote  him;  and  Grant  replied,  ^'Should 
my  success  be  less  than  I  desire  and  expect,  the 
least  I  can  say  is,  the  fault  is  not  with  you." 
Strange,  comforting  words  from  a  general, 
especially  a  general  in  Virginia !  He  gave  Lee 
battle  immediately,  and  for  two  days  the  dread- 
ful swamps  in  the  Wilderness  were  the  scene 
of  such  carnage  that  Grant  could  say,  "More 
desperate  fighting  has  not  been  seen  on  this 
continent."  From  Spottsylvania  he  wired,  "I 
propose  to  fight  it  out  on  this  line  if  it  takes 
all  summer."  But  his  despatches  were  few 
and  laconic.  To  Lincoln  the  waiting  in  the 
War  Office  for  news  was  sometimes  a  strain. 
"This  man  doesn't  telegraph  much,"  he  re- 
marked. The  terrible  sacrifice  of  life  sad- 
dened him,  and,  after  bloody  Cold  Harbour,  a 
groan  went  up  from  the  North ;  and  yet  he  sent 

177 


Wf^^m  _  _'  '  KKK\^  • 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

Grant  word,  "Hold  on  with  a  bull-dog  grip, 
and  chew  and  choke  as  much  as  possible." 
And  Grant  held  on,  and,  if  the  country  could 
not  realise  it,  Lincoln,  with  Grant  before  Rich- 
mond, felt  that  the  end  was  sure. 

For  one  day,  early  in  July,  the  President 
himself  was  under  fire.  Grant  had  left  the 
capital  uncovered,  and  Lee  detached  Early's 
cavalry  to  dash  into  Maryland  and,  if  possible, 
capture  Washington.  Lew  Wallace  held  him 
back,  however,  at  the  Monocacy,  and  saved  the 
capital  and  the  cause.  There  were  skirmishes 
as  desperately  close  as  Fort  Stevens,  four  miles 
from  Lincoln's  summer  cottage  at  the  Soldiers' 
Home,  and  twice  he  visited  the  fortifications 
and  witnessed  the  fighting  through  glasses,  his 
tall  form  a  conspicuous  target  for  sharp- 
shooters. An  officer  was  killed  within  a  few 
feet  of  where  he  stood,  and  Stanton  ordered  the 
President — rather  sharply,  it  may  be  suspected 
— to  remain  in  Washington.  When  Early  got 
closer,  his  men  recognised  the  tattered  flag  of 
the  Sixth  Corps,  and  the  veterans  Grant  had 

178 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

sent  were  there  to  save  Washington.  The 
crisis  was  short,  but  it  had  been  big  with  dan- 
ger. On  September  3,  1864,  came  word  from 
Sherman  that  'Atlanta  is  ours,  and  fairly 
won."  A  month  later  Sheridan  made  his  ride 
to  Winchester.  Then  came  Farragut's  dar- 
ing victory  in  Mobile  Bay. 

These  successes  were  sorely  needed,  for  with 
the  approach  of  the  presidential  campaign  of 
1864  the  administration  seemed  to  totter.  The 
news  of  the  fall  of  Atlanta  and  of  Farragut's 
victory  came  just  as  the  Democrats  in  conven- 
tion were  declaring  the  war  to  be  a  failure. 
Early  in  the  year  there  had  been  serious  op- 
position to  Lincoln's  renomination.  Chase 
was  graceless  enough  to  be  an  avowed  candi- 
date for  the  Presidency  against  the  man  in 
whose  cabinet  he  sat,  but  Lincoln  was  indif- 
ferent. He  had  a  keen  insight  into  the  moods 
of  the  public  mind,  and  an  almost  unerring 
instinct  as  to  public  opinion,  and  took  little  ac- 
count of  the  politicians,  for  he  sustained  in- 
timate relations  with  the  people.     The  differ- 

179 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

ence  with  Chase  finally  sent  the  Secretary  of 
the  Treasury  out  of  the  cabinet,  and  the  Presi- 
dent appointed  William  Pitt  Fessenden  of 
Maine  to  the  vacancy.  But  the  President 
never  cherished  ill  feeling.  When  the  aged 
Chief  Justice  Taney  died,  not  long  after,  he 
appointed  Chase  to  his  place  on  the  Supreme 
Court.  Many  of  the  radicals  in  his  party  were 
against  him, — Fremont,  and  Wendell  Phillips, 
and,  of  course,  Greeley.  But  William  Lloj^d 
Garrison,  Owen  Love  joy,  and  Oliver  Johnson, 
wiser,  more  practical  than  the  rest,  supported 
him  warmly,  though  the  radicals  and  some  of 
the  Missouri  malcontents  held  a  factional  con- 
vention at  Cleveland,  May  31,  and  nominated 
Fremont  for  President. 

Lincoln  did  nothing  to  bring  about  his  own 
renomination,  and  by  the  time  the  Bepublican 
Convention  met  at  Baltimore,  June  7,  opposi- 
tion had  ceased,  and  he  was  renominated,  with 
Andrew  Johnson,  of  Tennessee,  for  Vice- 
President.  Lincoln  was  pleased,  of  course, 
and  said  to  a  delegation,  come  with  congratu- 

180 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

lations,  that  he  supposed  that  it  had  been  "con- 
cluded that  it  is  not  best  to  swap  horses  while 
crossing  the  river." 

But  he  was  to  meet  heavy  opposition.  Val- 
landigham,  from  his  asylum  in  Canada,  was 
running  for  Governor  of  Ohio  on  the  Demo- 
cratic ticket,  the  cry  for  peace  was  going  up, 
Greeley  was  writing  in  his  Tribune  about  "our 
bleeding,  bankrupt,  almost  dying  country," 
and  the  "prospect  of  new  rivers  of  human 
blood."  Lincoln's  friends  were  losing  hope, 
and  Leonard  Swett  expressed  their  feeling 
when  he  wrote,  "Unless  material  changes  can 
be  wrought,  Lincoln's  election  is  beyond  any 
possible  hope."  But,  while  Lincoln  humanly 
desired  re-election,  he  would  not  listen  to  his 
friends  when  they  proposed  politicians' 
methods  of  bringing  it  about.  He  would  not 
allow  office-holders  to  influence  their  em- 
ployees, he  would  not  use  patronage  to  buy 
votes,  nor  would  he  stop  the  draft,  but  in  the 
very  midst  of  the  campaign  approved  an  order 
calhng  for  500,000  men.     "I  cannot  run  the 

181 


ABRAHAIM  LINCOLN 

political  machine,"  he  said.  "I  have  enough 
on  my  hands  without  that.  It  is  the  people's 
business — the  election  is  in  their  hands.  If 
they  turn  their  backs  to  the  fire  and  get 
scorched  in  the  rear,  they'll  find  they  have  to 
sit  on  the  blister." 

The  old  melancholy  settled  black  upon  him. 
He  felt  certain  of  defeat.  On  August  23, 
1864,  he  wrote  this  memorandum:  "This 
morning,  as  for  some  days  past,  it  seems  ex- 
ceedingly probable.that  this  administration  will 
not  be  re-elected.  Then  it  will  be  my  duty 
to  so  co-operate  with  the  President-elect  as  to 
save  the  Union  between  the  election  and  the  in- 
auguration, as  he  will  have  secured  his  elec- 
tion on  such  ground  that  he  cannot  possibly 
save  it  afterward.  A.  Lincoln."  He  showed 
it  to  no  one,  but  sealed  it  and  had  the  cabinet 
members  sign  their  names  on  the  envelope. 
Then  he  put  it  away, — curious  evidence  of  his 
utter  devotion  to  duty,  on  the  one  hand,  and  of 
the  strain  of  superstition  that  was  in  him;  for 

182 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

in  the  act  there  must  have  been  some  half -un- 
conscious effort  to  propitiate  the  fates. 

And  yet,  despite  abuse  and  vihfication  such 
as  few  men  have  endured  in  silence,  despite 
the  foolish  advice  of  panic-stricken  friends,  he 
kept  his  head,  and  went  on,  alone,  in  his  own 
way.  He  was  accused  of  prolonging  the  war 
for  inscrutable  purposes  of  his  own,  and,  when 
a  man  known  as  "Colorado  Jewett"  wrote 
Greeley  that  two  ambassadors,  representing 
Jefferson  Davis,  were  on  the  Canadian  side  at 
Niagara  Falls,  ready  and  willing  to  negotiate 
a  peace,  Greeley  wrote  the  President  an  hys- 
terical letter,  urging  that  representatives  be 
sent  to  meet  them.  Lincoln  "just  thought"  he 
w^ould  let  Greeley  "go  up  and  crack  that  nut 
for  himself,"  and  promptly  appointed  him  to 
negotiate  this  peace.  Greeley  for  once  was 
taken  aback  and  demurred,  but  Lincoln  with 
keen  satisfaction  insisted,  and  Greeley  had  to 
go, — for  Lincoln  was  adamant  when  once  his 
purpose  was  fixed, — and,  after  days  of  nego- 

183 


ABRAHJlM  lixcolx 


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ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

evidence  of  the  people's  resolution  to  stand  by 
free  government  and  the  rights  of  humanity." 
He  had  a  plurality  of  494,567,  and  received 
212  votes  in  the  electoral  college  to  McClellan's 
21. 


186 


VI 

At  last,  the  end  was  in  sight.  Grant 
was  beleaguering  Petersburg,  Sherman  had 
marched  from  Atlanta  to  the  sea,  Thomas  had 
shattered  the  Confederate  army  at  Nashville, 
the  stars  and  bars  had  been  swept  from  the 
ocean.  There  was  in  the  heart  of  Lincoln,  as 
in  the  heart  of  every  one,  an  ineffable  longing 
for  peace,  but  he  demanded  a  "peace  worth 
winning."  "The  war,"  he  said  in  his  message 
to  Congress,  "will  cease  on  the  part  of  the 
Government  whenever  it  shall  have  ceased  on 
the  part  of  those  who  began  it."  And  he 
would  never  be  a  party  to  the  re-enslavement 
of  any  of  those  emancipated  by  his  Proclama- 
tion: "If  the  people  should,  by  whatever 
mode  or  means,  make  it  an  executive  duty  to 
re-enslave  such  persons,  another  and  not  I 
must  be  their  instrument  to  perform  it."     He 

187 


ABRAHAJM  LINCOLN 

urged  the  Thirteenth  Amendment,  abolishing 
slavery,  and  when,  with  the  assistance  of 
Democratic  votes,  the  amendment  was 
adopted,  there  were  cheers  and  a  mighty  dem- 
onstration which  Speaker  Colfax's  gavel  could 
not  silence  or  abate,  the  House  adjourned  in 
"honour  of  this  immortal  and  sublime  event/' 
and  artillery  roared  its  salutes  from  Capitol 
Hill.  Then  crowds  swarmed  into  the  White 
House,  and  Lincoln  expressed  his  gratitude 
that  "the  great  job  is  ended." 

All  the  while  the  agitation  for  peace  went 
on,  and  finally,  as  the  result  of  Francis  P. 
Blair's  efforts,  early  in  February  the  President 
went  with  Seward  to  Hampton  Roads,  and 
there  on  board  the  steamer  River  Queen  met 
the  Peace  Commissioners  of  the  Confederacy, 
Alexander  H.  Stephens,  R.  M.  T.  Hunter, 
and  John  A.  Campbell.  For  five  hours  they 
talked,  but  it  came  to  nothing.  Lincoln  would 
enter  into  no  agreement  with  "parties  in  arms 
against  the  Government."  He  would  do  noth- 
ing, say  nothing,  that  might  be  construed  as  a 

188 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

recognition  of  the  Confederacy  as  a  treating 
power.  Hunter  found  a  precedent  in  the  case 
of  Charles  I  of  England,  who  had  treated 
"with  the  people  in  arms  against  him."  Lin- 
coln gazed  across  the  water.  "I  do  not  profess 
to  be  posted  in  history,"  he  said  in  his  dry,  in- 
imitable way;  "on  all  such  matters  I  will  turn 
you  over  to  Seward.  All  I  distinctly  recol- 
lect about  the  case  of  Charles  I  is  that  he  lost 
his  head!" 

It  was  perhaps  only  what  Lincoln  had  ex- 
pected. And  yet,  if  he  brought  back  from 
Hampton  Roads  nothing  tangible,  he  brought 
back  the  conviction  that  the  Southern  cause 
was  lost,  and  that  the  Southerners  knew  it; 
for,  reader  of  men  that  he  was,  those  sad  eyes 
had  penetrated  the  masque  of  pride  worn  by 
the  Confederate  Commissioners  and  read  the 
hopelessness  in  their  hearts.  His  own  heart 
was  centred  on  forgiveness,  amity,  and  gener- 
osity. He  feared  that  the  vindictive  spirit  he 
found  about  him,  now  when  the  triumph  should 
come,  would  keep  alive  the  ugly  hatred  the 

189 


ABRAHAJVI  LINCOLN 

war  had  generated  in  nearly  every  breast  but 
his.  This  beautiful  spirit  he  breathed  into  his 
second  inaugural  address,  comparable  in  dig- 
nity and  in  literary  beauty  only  to  the  Gettys- 
burg address.  On  the  4th  day  of  March,  1865, 
from  the  east  portico  of  the  Capitol,  to  an  audi- 
ence assembled  under  conditions  far  different 
from  those  which  had  existed  four  years  be- 
fore, he  read  the  enduring  words :  "Fondly  do 
we  hope,  fervently  do  we  pray,  that  this  mighty 
scourge  of  war  may  speedily  pass  away. 
Yet,  if  God  wills  that  it  continue  until  all  the 
wealth  piled  by  the  bondmen's  two  hundred 
and  fifty  years  of  unrequited  toil  shall  be  sunk, 
and  until  every  drop  of  blood  drawn  with  the 
lash  shall  be  paid  by  another  drawn  with  the 
sword,  as  was  said  three  thousand  years  ago, 
so  still  it  must  be  said,  'The  judgments  of  the 
Lord  are  true  and  righteous  altogether.' 
With  malice  toward  none,  with  charity  for  all, 
with  firmness  in  the  right  as  God  gives  us  to 
see  the  right,  let  us  strive  on  to  finish  the  work 
we  are  in;  to  bind  up  the  nation's  wounds; 

190 


ABRAHAJM  LINCOLN 

to  care  for  him  who  shall  have  borne  the  battle, 
and  for  his  widow  and  his  orphan, — to  do  all 
which  may  achieve  and  cherish  a  just  and  last- 
ing peace  among  om*selves  and  with  all  na- 
tions." 

About  the  middle  of  that  month  of  March, 
Lincoln  had  word  from  Grant  telling  him  he 
was  about  to  close  in  on  Lee  and  end  the  war. 
Then  on  the  20th  Grant  telegraphed:  "Can 
you  not  visit  City  Point  for  a  day  or  two?  I 
would  like  very  much  to  see  you,  and  I  think 
the  rest  would  do  you  good."  Rest!  For  this 
weary  man!  Could  it  be?  ''I  am  afraid,"  he 
had  said  to  some  woman  who,  taking  the  hand 
that  had  signed  the  pardon  of  her  husband 
and  her  son,  had  gone  down  on  her  knees  and 
spoken  of  meeting  him  in  heaven, — "I  am 
afraid  with  all  my  troubles  I  shall  never  get 
to  the  resting  place  you  speak  of."  He  was 
deeply  moved.  Speed  was  there,  the  old 
friend,  whom  the  v/ar  had  separated  from  him. 
It  was  the  close  of  a  hard  day,  and  Speed 
remonstrated  with  him  for  yielding  to  such 

191 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

demands  upon  his  sympathies.  He  had  wear- 
ily half  agreed,  saying  that  he  was  ill,  that  his 
hands  and  feet  were  always  cold,  and  that  he 
ought  to  be  in  bed.  And  yet  such  scenes  as 
that  through  which  he  had  just  passed  con- 
soled him,  after  all.  "It  is  more  than  one  can 
often  say,"  he  told  Speed,  "that  in  doing  right, 
one  has  made  two  people  happy  in  one  day." 
And  so  he  accepted  Grant's  invitation. 
JMrs.  Lincoln  and  his  beloved  Tad  went  with 
him;  and  they  all  were  happy  as  the  River 
Queen  dropped  down  the  Potomac,  and  as- 
cended the  James  to  City  Point,  where  Grant 
had  his  headquarters.  While  he  was  there, 
Sherman  came  up  from  North  Carolina,  and 
with  him  and  Grant  the  President  conferred. 
The  generals  felt  that  each  must  fight  another 
battle  to  end  the  war,  but  Lincoln  pleaded  for 
"no  more  bloodshed."  He  was  there  in  touch 
with  the  final  movements  of  the  army  on  that 
night  of  awful  thunderstorms  which  Grant 
chose  for  his  last  general  advance  against  Lee, 
and  the  moment  the  news  came  that  the  Con- 

192 


ABRAHAJM  LINCOLN 

federate  capital  had  fallen  and  that  Jefferson 
Davis  had  fled  he  said,  "I  want  to  go  to  Kich- 
mond."  And  so,  on  the  morning  of  April  4, 
with  Admiral  Porter  and  little  Tad,  he  went 
aboard  the  River  Queen;  but  obstructions 
placed  in  the  James  by  the  Confederates  dur- 
ing the  siege  deterred  them,  and,  leaving 
the  steamer,  the  President  went  on  in  the  ad- 
miral's barge.  They  stopped  long  enough  to 
let  Tad  disembark  and  gather  some  spring 
flowers  from  the  river-banks,  and  then  went  on 
to  Richmond. 

Thus,  after  four  years  of  war,  with  Tad  and 
the  admiral  and  his  little  escort  of  sailors, 
simply,  on  foot,  he  entered  the  abandoned 
capital.  The  city  was  in  utter  demoralisation, 
parts  of  it  in  flames,  fired  by  the  flying  Con- 
federates; but  he  walked  in  safety,  bringing 
with  him  not  the  vengeance  of  a  conqueror, 
but  the  love  of  a  liberator.  The  negroes 
flocked  to  see  him,  greeting  him  with  supersti- 
tious reverence,  bursting  into  tears,  shouting 
veritable  hosannas.     "Mars'  Lincoln  he  walk 

193 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

de  yearf  lak  de  Lo'd!"  shouted  one;  and  an- 
other, f aUing  on  his  knees  to  kiss  his  feet,  cried, 
*'Bress  de  Lo'd,  dere  is  de  great  Messiah!" 
And  there  was  no  more  significant  moment, 
perhaps,  in  all  history  than  that  which  recog- 
nised political  liberty  in  America,  when  an 
aged  negro,  baring  his  white  wool,  made  rever- 
ent obeisance,  and  Lincoln  in  acknowledgment 
lifted  his  high  hat. 

The  guard  rescued  him,  however,  from  the 
crowd,  and  conducted  him  to  the  Confederate 
Mansion,  the  late  residence  of  Jefferson  Davis. 
He  remained  in  Richmond  two  days,  discuss- 
ing the  details  of  the  restoration  of  Federal 
authority.  His  counsel  was  all  for  kindness, 
forgiveness.  **Once  get  them  to  ploughing," 
he  said  to  Porter,  ''and  gathering  in  their  own 
little  crops,  eating  popcorn  at  their  own  fire- 
sides, and  you  can't  get  them  to  shoulder  a 
musket  again  for  half  a  century."  To  the 
militaiy  governor  he  said,  "Let  them  down 
easy."  And  when,  at  Libby  Prison,  some  one 
declared  that  Jefferson  Davis   ought  to  be 

194 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

hanged,  he  said,  "Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not 
judged."  It  was  in  this  temper,  the  expres- 
sion of  a  spiritual  development  far  beyond 
that  of  any  of  his  contemporaries,  a  develop- 
ment that  centuries  hence  will  still  be  in  ad- 
vance of  the  world  of  men,  that  he  was  already 
preparing  to  "bind  up  the  nation's  wounds." 
He  went  back  to  City  Point,  and  thence,  on 
hearing  that  Seward  had  been  injured  by  be- 
ing thrown  from  his  carriage,  he  hastened  on 
to  Washington.  There  he  heard  of  Lee's  sur- 
render at  Appomattox.  Two  days  later,  to  a 
large  crowd  at  the  White  House,  he  delivered 
a  carefully  prepared  address  on  the  rehabilita- 
tion of  the  Southern  States.  In  this  speech 
he  outlined  the  policy  of  reconstruction  he  in- 
tended to  pursue,  and  had  already  applied  in 
the  case  of  Louisiana.  He  had  been  bitterly 
criticised,  as  usual.  The  address  was  full  of 
his  pungent  personality,  marked  by  his  quaint 
and  trenchant  style.  "Concede,"  he  said, 
"that  the  new  government  of  Louisiana  is  only, 
to  what  it  should  be,  as  the  egg  is  to  the  fowl, 

195 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

we  shall  sooner  have  the  fowl  by  hatching  the 
egg  than  by  smashing  it."  It  was  the  last 
speech  he  ever  made. 

It  was  little  Tad  who  said  that  his  father  had 
never  been  happy  since  they  came  to  Washing- 
ton. He  had,  indeed,  under  that  awful 
burden,  grown  rapidly  old,  his  laughter  had 
failed,  he  had  become  more  and  more  detached, 
more  abstracted,  his  grey  eyes  were  veiled,  as 
though  his  physical,  like  his  spiritual,  vision 
were  turned  inward.  Dreadful  dreams  had 
haunted  him.  On  the  night  of  the  13th  he  had 
one  which  oppressed  him:  he  "was  in  a  singular 
and  indescribable  vessel — moving  toward  a 
dark  and  indefinite  shore."  In  the  morning 
— it  was  Good  Friday,  April  14,  the  fourth 
anniversary  of  the  evacuation  of  Fort  Sumter 
— he  told  this  dream  to  his  cabinet,  then  turned 
to  business.  Grant  was  present,  having  come 
up  from  Appomattox.  They  wished  to  know 
about  Sherman's  movements. 

But  now,  at  last,  he  was  happy,  sharing  with 
the  people  he  loved  the  gladness  that  came  with 

196 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

the  end  of  the  war.  The  sadness  in  his  face 
was  giving  way  to  an  expression  of  lofty  seren- 
ity, of  sweet  and  quiet  joy.  That  day  he  was 
especially  cheerful.  The  nation  in  its  noisy 
American  way,  with  bands  and  bonfires  and 
bells,  with  illuminations  and  resolutions  and 
speeches,  was  celebrating  the  victory  down  in 
Charleston  harbour.  Henry  Ward  Beecher 
was  delivering  the  oration  at  the  ceremony  of 
raising  the  Union  flag  once  more  over  black- 
ened Sumter.  All  Washington  was  celebrat- 
ing, the  draft  had  been  suspended,  Grant  was 
in  town,  the  war  was  over;  and  in  the  cabinet 
Lincoln  would  hear  of  nothing  but  amnesty, 
reconciliation,  fraternal  love.  There  were  no 
more  "rebels,"  he  said:  they  were  "our  fellow- 
citizens." 

He  drove  out  with  Mrs.  Lincoln  in  the  soft 
sunshine  of  the  spring  day.  The  trees  were 
blossoming;  the  lilacs,  which  Walt  Whitman 
has  forever  associated  with  the  fragrant  mem- 
ory of  him,  were  in  bloom,  and,  as  they  drove 
together,  he  spoke  of  the  future.     He  had 

197 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

saved  a  little  money  during  his  Presidency, 
they  would  save  a  little  more,  go  back  to 
Springfield,  and  he  would  practise  law  again. 
And  yet  to  the  wife  by  his  side  this  joy  was 
portentous.  He  had  been  like  this,  she  re- 
membered, just  before  Willie  died. 

They  drove  back  to  the  White  House  in  the 
waning  afternoon,  and,  seeing  some  old  friends 
from  Illinois  on  the  lawn,  he  called  to  them. 
Richard  Oglesby  was  among  them,  and  they 
went  to  the  President's  office,  where  he  read 
to  them  some  book  of  humour, — John  Phoenix, 
perhaps, — and  laughed  and  loitered,  and  was 
late  to  dinner.  For  the  evening  Mrs.  Lincoln 
had  arranged  a  theatre  party,  with  General 
and  Mrs.  Grant  as  her  guests.  They  were 
going  to  Ford's  Theatre,  to  see  Laura  Keene 
play  in  Our  American  Cousin,  The  manager 
of  the  theatre,  with  an  eye  to  business,  had 
advertised  the  fact  that  "The  President  and 
his  Lady"  and  ''The  Hero  of  Appomattox  and 
Mrs.  Grant"  would  be  there ;  and,  when  Stan- 
ton learned  of  it,  he  tried  to  dissuade  them,  for 

198 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

the  secret  service  had  heard  rumours  of  threat- 
ened assassination.  He  was  so  vigorous  that 
he  succeeded  with  Grant,  who  withdrew  his 
acceptance  of  the  invitation,  and  left  for  Bur- 
hngton,  New  Jersey,  to  see  his  daughter 
NelHe.  But  Lincohi  laughed  at  Stanton. 
The  party  was  reorganised.  He  took  with 
him  Major  Rathbone,  "because  Stanton  in- 
sists upon  having  some  one  to  protect  me." 
Miss  Harris,  the  daughter  of  a  New  York 
senator,  was  asked,  and  about  nine  o'clock  the 
party  entered  the  presidential  box  at  the 
theatre.  The  holiday  mood  was  on  him  still. 
He  enjoyed  the  performance  with  that  keen 
relish  the  play  always  afforded  him,  and 
laughed  and  joked  and  w^as  delightful. 

At  twenty  minutes  after  ten  o'clock  there 
was  a  pistol-shot.  Some  thought,  in  the  mo- 
ment's flash,  that  it  was  all  part  of  the  play. 
And  then  two  men.  were  struggling  in  the 
President's  box.  There  was  the  siclaiess  of 
the  confusion  of  tragedy,  and  a  woman's  voice 
shrieking: — : 

199 


ABRAHA]M  LIXCOLX 

"He  has  killed  the  President!" 

A  man  leaped  from  the  box,  caught  his  spur 
in  the  x4merican  flag  that  draped  it,  and  then, 
rising  from  the  stage  "where  he  had  heavily 
fallen,  he  brandished  a  dagger,  cried  out  with 
awful  theatricalism,  ''Sic  semper  tyrannis!" 
and,  stalking  lamely,  crossed  the  stage  and 
disappeared.  Then  horror  and  chaos  in  the 
theatre  and  in  the  city. 

They  bore  the  President  from  the  theatre, 
and  some  lodger,  leaving  a  house  just  across 
the  street,  said,  "Take  him  up  to  my  room." 
Thither  they  bore  him,  to  the  lodger's  bed,  and 
watched  all  the  night  through.  The  bullet, 
entering  at  the  back  of  the  head,  had  passed 
through  his  brain.  He  never  was  conscious 
any  more,  and  in  the  morning,  at  twenty-two 
minutes  after  seven  o'clock,  while  the  crowds 
were  straining  their  eyes  on  the  bulletins  and 
the  dawn  had  come  after  the  blackest  and  most 
horrid  night  Washington  had  ever  known,  he 
died;  and  Stanton,  at  his  bedside,  said, — 

200 


ABRAHAM  LIXCOLX 

''Xow  he  belongs  to  the  ages." 

All  that  night  the  city  had  been  in  uproar, 
drums  beating  the  long  roll,  soldiers  ransack- 
ing everwhere.  Seward  had  been  almost 
mortally  stabbed.  There  were  awful  rumours 
that  Vice-President  Johnson  was  killed,  and 
Grant  and  Stanton.  The  citv  shuddered  with 
the  fear  of  some  vast,  unknown  conspiracy. 
The  blow  had  been  struck  so  suddenly,  no  effi- 
cient  pursuit  had  been  made.  But,  as  the  day 
progressed,  it  was  learned  that  the  plot  had 
succeeded  only  in  the  President's  case.  Se- 
ward  was  desperately  wounded,  but  could  re- 
cover. The  others  were  safe.  Grant  was 
hastenino^  back  from  Xew  Jersey.  Jolmson 
had  taken  the  oath,  and  was  President. 

The  assassin  was  John  Wilkes  Booth,  a 
melodramatic  actor,  one  in  most  ways  un- 
worthy of  the  great  name  he  bore.  He  was 
a  fanatic  in  the  Southern  cause,  and  long,  it 
seemed,  cherished  the  plot  he  had  at  last  so 
successfully  executed  that  he  struck  do\\Ti  the 

201 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

dearest  life  in  America.  At  the  stage  door  of 
the  theatre  he  had  had  a  horse  in  waiting,  and 
had  ridden  off  into  Maryland. 

All  over  the  North,  that  next  day,  the  peo- 
ple were  dumb  with  grief  and  rage.  The  il- 
luminations, the  festoons,  the  arches,  the  Stars 
and  Stripes  with  which  they  had  decorated 
whole  towns,  mocked  them  now,  and  they  took 
them  down  or  hid  them  away  under  the  black 
of  their  mourning.  Men  met  in  the  street,  and 
stood  mute,  gazing  at  each  other  with  tears 
running  down  their  cheeks,  and  even  those  who 
had  hated  and  maligned  and  opposed  him  un- 
derstood him  now  in  the  transfiguration 
through  which  his  last  sacrifice  revealed  him. 
They  folded  the  body  of  Abraham  Lincoln  in 
the  flag,  and  bore  it  from  that  lodging-house 
in  Tenth  Street  to  the  White  House,  and  after 
that  to  the  Capitol,  where  it  lay  in  state.  Then 
began  that  long,  strange  funeral  procession 
homeward,  when  it  was  borne  back  over  the 
very  route  he  had  taken  in  1861  when  he  went 
to  Washington  to  take  up  his  task,  with  pauses 

202 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

and  funeral  marches  and  lyings  in  state  in 
city  and  capital.  Night,  storm,  and  rain  made 
no  difference  to  the  crowds.  At  New  York, 
when  the  bells  tolled  midnight,  a  German 
chorus  began  to  sing  the  Integer  Vitae;  and, 
as  the  train  sped  through  the  wide  country, 
little  groups  of  farmers  could  be  seen,  dim 
figmxs  in  the  night,  watching  it  sweep  by,  wav- 
ing lanterns  in  sad  farewell. 

Long  before  the  procession  ended,  the  as- 
sassin, at  bay  in  a  barn  in  Virginia,  had  been 
shot  down  by  a  soldier,  a  fanatic  in  the  Union 
cause,  Boston  Corbett.  But,  in  the  face  of 
Abraham  Lincoln,  the  sweeping  thousands 
that  looked  upon  it  as  it  was  slowly  borne 
homeward  through  the  States  saw  forgiveness 
and  peace.  He  was  buried  May  4,  1865,  with 
stately  civil  and  military  ceremonies,  in  Oak 
Ridge  Cemetery  at  Springfield. 

His  beautiful  dream  was  not  to  be. 
Shrewd,  logical  realist  though  he  was,  never- 
theless he  was  essentially  an  idealist,  and  his 

203 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

ideal  was  too  high,  too  far.  Mutual  forgive- 
ness, immediate  reconciliation,  brotherly  love, 
were  not  for  his  contemporaries,  and  their 
hatred  bore  its  inevitable  fruit  in  the  bitter 
days  of  reconstruction  that  followed.  Because 
they  could  not  understand  him,  the  men  of  his 
time  reviled  and  ridiculed  him,  measured  him 
by  the  standards  with  which  they  measured 
themselves,  and,  in  judging  him,  judged  only 
themselves.  Themselves  impractical,  they 
thought  him  impractical  who  was  the  most 
practical  of  men;  thought  him  ignorant  who 
was  the  wisest  of  men;  sneered  at  him  as  un- 
educated,— ^him  on  whom  degrees  and  doctors' 
hoods  would  have  appeared  pinchbeck  and 
ridiculous!  And  his  fate,  in  hfe,  in  death,  was 
the  lonely  fate — and  the  immortal  glory  of  all 
the  prophets  and  saviours  of  the  world.  As 
the  scenes  in  the  great  war  receded,  as  the  per- 
spective lengthened  and  passions  cooled,  men 
came  to  see  how  great,  how  mighty,  how  orig- 
inal he  was.    As  slowly  they  grew  in  the 

204 


ABRAHAJVI  LINCOLN 

national  spirit  he  breathed  into  them,  as  man- 
kind in  its  upward  striving  reached  toward 
his  stature,  they  began  to  recognise  in  him  not 
only  the  first,  but  the  ideal  American,  realising 
in  his  life  all  that  America  is  and  hopes  and 
dreams.  And  more  and  more,  as  time  goes 
on,  he  grows  upon  the  mind  of  the  world.  The 
figure  of  Washington,  the  first  of  American 
heroes,  has  taken  on  the  cold  and  classic  isola- 
tion of  a  marble  statue.  But  Lincoln,  even 
though  inevitable  legend  has  enveloped  him  in 
its  refracting  atmosphere,  remains  dearly 
human,  and  the  common  man  may  look  upon 
his  sad  and  homely  face  and  find  in  it  that 
quality  of  character  which  causes  him  to  re- 
vere and  love  him  as  a  familiar  friend,  one  of 
the  common  people  whom,  as  he  once  humor- 
ously said,  God  must  have  loved  ''because  he 
made  so  many  of  them."  Thus  he  remains 
close  to  the  heart,  just  as  if  he  had  lived  on 
through  the  years,  essentially  and  forever 
human,  not  alone  the  possession  of  our  own 

205 


ABRAHAJM  LINCOLN 

people,  but  of  all  people ;  not  of  a  nation  only, 
but  of  the  whole  human  brotherhood  he  loved 
with  such  perfect  devotion,  and  of  that  human- 
ity to  which  he  gave  his  life. 


206 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

The  books,  sketches,  essays,  and  poems  on  Lin- 
coln, as  was  intimated  in  the  Preface,  are  already 
legion.  Besides,  his  life  is  written  all  over  and 
through  the  history  of  our  nation  during  the  critical 
period  to  which  slavery  brought  it.  It  would  be 
impossible  to  name  them  all,  perhaps  it  would  be 
impracticable  to  read  them  all.  Historical  works 
dealing  with  his  times  and  with  the  war,  all  of  which 
must  certainly  take  him  into  account,  are  therefore 
omitted,  together  with  much  else  of  interest.  But 
the  following  titles  have  been  selected  as  being,  it  is 
thought,  the  leading  Lives  and  books  bearing  directly 
on  his  career.  Those  considered  most  valuable  are 
marked  with  an  asterisk. 

L  *  Lives  and  Speeches  of  Abraham  Lincoln 
AND  Hannibal  Hamlin.  By  William  Dean 
Howells  and  John  L.  Hayes.  (Columbus,  Ohio, 
1860:  Follett,  Foster  &  Co.) 

IL  Political  Debates  between  Hon.  Abraham 
Lincoln  and  Hon.  Stephen  A.  Douglas,  in  the 
Celebrated  Campaign  of  1858,  in  Illinois,  etc. 
(Columbus,  Ohio,  1860:  Follett,  Foster  &  Co.) 

207 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

III.  Life  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  etc.  By  Joseph 
H.  Barrett.  (Cincinnati,  1865:  Moore,  Wilstach 
&  Baldwin.) 

IV.  Abraham  Lincoln,  his  Life  and  Public 
Services.  By  Phoebe  A.  C.  Hanaford.  (Boston, 
1865:  B.  B.  Russell  &  Co.) 

V.  The  Life  and  Public  Services  of  Abraham 
Lincoln,  Etc.  By  Henry  J.  Raymond.  (New- 
York,  1865:  Derby  &  Miller.) 

VI.  The  History  of  Abraham  Lincoln  and  the 
Overthrow  of  Slavery.  By  Isaac  N.  Arnold. 
(Chicago,  1866:  Clarke  &  Co.) 

VIL  *  Six  Months  at  the  White  House  with 
Abraham  Lincoln,  etc.  By  Francis  B.  Car- 
penter.    (New  York,  1866:  Hurd  &  Houghton.) 

VIII.  *  Life  of  Abraham  Lincoln.  By  J.  G. 
Holland.     (Springfield,  Mass.,  1866:  C.  Bill.) 

IX.  *  The  Life  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  from  his 
Birth  to  his  Inauguration  as  President.  By 
Ward  H.  Lamon.  (Boston,  1872:  J.  R.  Osgood 
&Co.) 

X.  Abraham  Lincoln  and  the  Abolition  of 
Slavery  in  the  United  States.  By  Charles  G. 
Leland.  (New  York,  1879:  G.  P.  Putnam's 
Sons.) 

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BIBLIOGRAPHY 

XL  *  Reminiscences  of  Abraham  Lincoln  by 
Distinguished  Men  of  his  Time.  Edited  by 
Allan  Thorndike  Rice.  (New  York,  1886:  North 
American  Publishing  Co.) 

XII.  *  Abraham  Lincoln,  a  History.  By  John 
C.  Nicolay  and  John  Hay.  (New  York,  1890: 
The  Century  Company.) 

XIH.  *  Herndon's  Lincoln,  the  True  Story  of 
A  Great  Life,  etc.  By  William  H.  Herndon  and 
Jesse  W.  Weik.  (Chicago,  1889:  Belford,  Clarke 
&  Co.)  Same,  with  Emendations.  (New  York, 
1892:  D.  Appleton  &  Co.) 

XIV.  Life  on  the  Circuit  with  Lincoln,  etc. 
By  Henry  C.  Whitney.  (Boston,  1892 :  Estes  & 
I<auriat.) 

XV.  *  Abraham  Lincoln.  By  John  T.  Morse, 
Jr.  (Boston  and  New  York,  1893:  Houghton, 
Mifflin  &  Co.) 

XVI.  *  Complete  Works  of  Abraham  Lincoln. 
Edited  by  John  C.  Nicolay  and  John  Hay.  (New 
York,  1894:  The  Century  Company.) 

XVII.  Abraham  Lincoln  and  the  Downfall  of 
American  Slavery.  By  Noah  Brooks.  (New 
York,  1894:  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons.) 

209 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

XVIII.  *  Abraham  Lincoln,  the  Man  of  the 
People.  By  Norman  Hapgood.  (New  York, 
1899:  The  Macmillan  Company.) 

XIX.  *  The  Life  of  Abraham  Lincoln.  By  Ida 
M.  Tarbell.  (New  York,  1900:  The  Doubleday 
&  McClure  Co.) 

XX.  *  Lincoln,  the  Lawyer.  By  Frederick 
Trevor  Hill.  (New  York,  1906:  The  Century 
Company.) 

XXI.  *  Lincoln,  Master  of  Men,  a  Study  of 
Character.  By  Alonzo  Rothschild.  (Boston 
and  New  York,  1906:  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.) 

XXII.  *  Lincoln  in  the  Telegraph  Office. 
By  David  Homer  Bates.  (New  York,  1907:  The 
Century  Company.) 

XXIII.  *  Abraham  Lincoln.  By  Henry  Bryan 
Binns.  (London:  J.  M.  Dent  &  Co.;  New  York, 
1907:  E.  P.  Dutton&  Co.) 

XXIV.  *  The  Lincoln-Douglas  Debates  of 
1858.  Volume  I.  of  Lincoln  Series ;  Collections 
of  the  Illinois  State  Historical  Library,  Vol.  III. 
Edited  by  Edwin  Erie  Sparks.  (Springfield, 
lUinois,  1908.) 


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